


Falling In Love At a Coffee Shop

by Ashlanielle



Series: Holding On and Letting Go [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Family, Fear, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Romance, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 63,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashlanielle/pseuds/Ashlanielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is hard...love even more so. Life has been more than a little hard for Rose Tyler, causing her to build walls that no one can get through. John Noble is just existing, not realizing there could be something more. That is until he meets Rose. But will past tragedy and fear keep apart two people meant to be together? First story in the "Holding On and Letting Go" series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fan fic I ever wrote. It's posted already on Teaspoon and FF, but I will be making some tweaks. Oh...I love music, so each chapter has a song that I think ties in with the overall. story.
> 
> A Falling Through–Ray LaMontagne
> 
> **Story title comes from a song by Landon Pigg**

Everything was still, as if the whole world was holding its breath. The darkened sky was ominous, but the blackened clouds held back their downpour. The only sign of life at the moment was that of a young woman quietly conversing with two people--both of whom would never again respond.

“The flowers were so beautiful. You woulda loved ‘em, Mum. I, uh...well, that is, we made sure we had all your favorites. Everythin' was...just…it…God, I can’t do this. I-I dunno what to do. How am I s'posed t-to…to do this? I’m so afraid I’m gonna let you both down. I love you both…so…so much and I-I…” 

She finally broke. The impenetrable stronghold she had maintained throughout the entire ordeal finally came crumbling down around her. Sobs wracked her already weakened and exhausted body. The black skies opened up and let loose their own tears. Desperately she clung to the two headstones, her knuckles white and hands trembling from both emotion and the cold rain pelting relentlessly against her skin. The temperature continued its slow descent, but the bitter cold went unnoticed; she was already numbed by her overwhelming anguish. A sudden hand gently touched her shoulder, but it was only the accompanying voice that garnered her attention.

“Rose... Love, you need to get up. You’re soaked.”

Blinking rapidly, Rose flitted her eyes around the area. She hadn’t even realized that she had sunk to her knees. Slowly, Rose lifted her head, the icy rain mixing with her tears. 

“They’re really gone.” 

The hollow words hung in the air. 

The young woman knelt down beside Rose, choosing to be soaked as well rather than leave her side. Rose relinquished her hold on the two graves, her hands falling flaccidly to her sides. The woman beside her grasped her hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing tightly. 

Rose laid her head on the woman's shoulder. “What happens now?”

“We go home. All of us. Together.”

“I’m...I'm scared, Martha,” Rose whispered. 

“Me too. But we've got you and you’ve got us. We’ll do this together, like we've always done. C’mon. Mickey is getting worried and Tony will be up any minute.”

Wiping away her own tears, Martha placed her arm around Rose’s shoulder, bracing her weakened frame, and stood up with her. Rose turned in Martha's arms and grasped her in a fierce hug. She was more than her friend; she was her sister; and now she, Mickey, and Tony were the only family Rose had left. 

Rose took one last sorrowful yet loving gaze at the graves, seeing not two stone slabs, but rather, the people they memorialized. There would be no more looking back. With one final silent goodbye, Rose and Martha walked arm in arm to the waiting car.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over–Terry McDermott

“Donna, please...I know it's difficult, but try an' listen to me. I don’t want any bloody coffee! What I want is to have a moment’s peace to focus and write. I have a deadline hurtling towards me--something I know you are well aware of...what considering it's your husband that so generously imposed it on me!” John Noble grumbled with a surprisingly perfect balance of dramatics and irritation. In actuality, he looked more like a whining child being dragged down the street by his irritated mother rather than a grown man walking alongside his sister. 

A deadline was indeed approaching, but truth be told, John had absolutely no desire to write. He was completely, utterly, hopelessly, and every other adverb imaginable that conveyed the degree to which he was blocked at that moment. For a man who had, as his sister Donna constantly called it, a “never-ending gob,” he was completely void of words every time he sat down to write. Hours would pass as he just stared at the screen with that antagonizing cursor mockingly blinking in the corner. John had tried absolutely every activity that had entered his mind to spur his creativity--pacing the length and breadth of his flat, recording every thought that popped into his mind, cooking, dancing, taking apart the appliances and putting them back together...everything. And yet, nothing had worked. In fact, his appliances literally didn’t work anymore. His muse had officially done a runner, and there was no sign of her returning in the near future.

“Oh just button it, John!” the ginger commanded, whirling around and looking at him squarely, her eyes blazing. ”You’ve been doing things your way for over a month, and you know what you have to show for it? Three broken toasters, a melted coffee maker, and a sprained ankle from doing some sorta samba nonsense. Not to mention, I got food poisoning from your little 'inspirational' cooking escapade! I was in the loo for hours. My head didn't leave the bowl!"

Rolling his eyes, John groaned exasperatedly. “How was I to know that you would have that reaction to the mushrooms? It's never happened before.”

“Because those bloody mushrooms came from some bloody park, you twit! You can’t just go pickin' random things out of the ground and stickin' them in a pot! Do you know what animals do at the park, John? God only knows what I ingested!” Donna shouted, turning slightly green at the recollection.

“Fine!” he said, scrubbing his face with his hands and then throwing them up in annoyed defeat. “You win! Happy? I'll have a bloody coffee. But do you mind enlightening me on just how exactly this is supposed to help me—other than getting you off my bloody back?”

Those snappish words set Donna's blood ablaze, and in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to whap him upside the head. Summoning every ounce of restraint she had within her, Donna took a slow, steadying breath and held her tongue. Any other time, she would have let him have it in more ways than one, but Donna knew that this wasn't one of those times.

Over the last few months, Donna had watched John's demeanor change, becoming more irritable and discontent. It was that slow, downward spiral that worried her. She was running out of ideas and especially out of patience. Donna loved her brother more than she would ever be able to express, but his stubbornness and her temper were a volatile combination that was creeping towards a core meltdown.

Donna wasn't being daft, she knew that coffee itself wasn’t going to fix anything, or any drink for that matter. But this wasn't about any drink--John needed an escape, and this shop was one of the best escapes Donna had ever known. It was one of the few places where she truly felt at peace—almost as if it was a home away from home.

She had stumbled upon that hidden gem one autumn day. After a more than usually fiery disagreement with her then fiancée, Jack, Donna had stormed out of her flat and began roaming the streets, trying desperately to calm herself. She was so preoccupied with replaying their argument and thinking of ways to make his life a slow living hell, that she was completely oblivious to the young blonde woman positioning a Specials Board along her path, and made direct contact with her, knocking the stranger flat on her bum.

Gasping in shock and embarrassment, Donna hurriedly helped the blonde to her feet. “I am so, so sorry! I wasn't lookin'...well, obviously, I wasn't lookin'. I'm just...” 

“No worries,” the blonde assured her, brushing off her jeans. As she reached for the sign that had also fallen to the ground, her eyes locked with Donna's, and she furrowed her brow contemplatively, her eyes turning warm and thoughtful. “Wanna come inside? Have a cuppa? On the house, of course.”

At that moment, Donna was so distraught that she was on the verge of tears. Looking into the kind eyes and warm smile of the young woman before her, Donna nodded and silently followed her into the shop. As the blonde went to make her proffered drink, Donna plopped herself down at one of the mosaiced round tables and put her head in her hands. She fought to rein in her emotions, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep her tears at bay. At the sound of a mug being placed on the table, Donna looked up and once again met the warm, whiskey eyes of her new acquaintance. The blonde smiled softly at her. It wasn't a placating or pitying gesture; it was utterly genuine, and Donna welcomed it. The young woman took a seat beside Donna, and with one hand on her own mug and another on Donna’s hand, she looked at her and simply said, “Wanna tell me 'bout it?"

The following three hours found Donna pouring her heart out to the young woman. Even though she was a stranger, Donna felt so at ease with her and the weight of her day was gone. At the end of it all, she left having had the best cuppa of her life, her heart lighter, and a new friend. Ever since that day, Donna visited the shop almost every day. Each time, she took in little details about the quaint shop and fell more in love with it and the people who ran it. It was her little secret haven; so the fact that Donna was now taking her infuriatingly yet lovable brother into said haven, spoke volumes about how much she loved him and how desperate she was to help him. 

“John, for once, just listen and don't question. Please?” Donna sighed wearily, her eyes more pleading than her words.

On seeing this, John was taken aback. It was not often that Donna implored him as she had just done. He wanted to say something, but he once again, words failed him. Instead, he simply nodded and opened the door to _The Cuppa._


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POSSIBLE TRIGGERS: This chapter contains some shoving and threat of violence, however, it is NOTHING GRAPHIC.
> 
> I'll Stand By You–Carrie Underwood

Closing her tired eyes, Martha pinched the bridge of her nose. She was exhausted. In truth, she felt as if she had been run over repeatedly by a lorry. Normally she didn’t mind opening the shop, but instead of the usual 6:00 AM, she had been there since 4:00. A large and rather last minute order had to be completed, thus the ridiculously early arrival.  
  
This was compacted by the fact that Martha had barely slept more than four hours, thanks in a large part to the force of nature that was Tony Tyler. It all started because Rose adamantly refused to let Tony watch _The Avengers_ , resulting in him throwing a mild tantrum and running up the stairs. Not long after that, Martha had headed to bed. After fighting off Mickey’s freezing feet and finally getting enough of the covers, she started to drift off. About the time her eyes closed and the blissful sleep was about to take her, Tony threw open their door, scurrying across the room and jumping into their bed. How he didn’t wake Mickey, Martha couldn’t figure. After the fifth time of Tony’s feet hitting her face (how his feet ended up there she didn’t know), she retreated to the couch where she spent the remaining hours tossing and turning. 

Usually, Martha and Rose alternated opening, but due to the amount of work still to be done, both of their presences were needed. As she put in another tray of scones into the over, Rose popped her head into the kitchen and asked, "Coffee or tea?"p>

“I'm thinking twenty shots of espresso with a coffee chaser,” Martha groaned. 

Rose rolled her eyes and giggled. “How 'bout two shots of espresso so I don’t have to jumpstart your heart after it overdose on caffeine?” 

“I’ll take what I can get.” Still giggling, Rose went to prepare their caffeine fixes.

Martha smiled as her "sister" walked away. It was in moments such as those that Martha was baffled as to how she had ever disliked Rose. Well, in honesty, it was more like borderline hatred, and for the most juvenile reason possible--a boy.  
  
Though Martha and Rose went to school together, they didn't travel in the same circles, only sharing a few friends. Martha had never had an opinion one way or another about Rose, that is until she fell hard for the resident bad boy Jimmy Stone, and all within the span of two days. One moment she hadn't given him a second thought, and the next, she was completely enamored with his dark, brooding “Rock God” persona. She honestly didn’t know much about him other than she found him mysterious and gorgeous, and for her that was more than enough. Martha desperately wanted to make a move, but the only thing standing in her way was one Rose Tyler, Jimmy's girlfriend.  
  
However, the bitter jealously and irrational hatred didn't last long because within two months of dating, Rose and Jimmy were no more. After Rose returned to school from a week long absence, it was obvious that she wanted nothing to do with the rebel, making every effort to be away from him.

Seeing her chance, Martha slowly made her attraction to Jimmy known, and he was more than happy to oblige her. He flashed her that crooked cocky smile of his that made her stomach do summersaults. At lunch, he would see her and pat the empty spot next to him and like an obedient dog, she eagerly sat. Martha was certain that soon those small attentions would turn into something more significant. She was floating. That was until Rose decided to burst her blissful bubble one day on her way to Chemistry. 

As Martha walked the hallway to class, she noticed the blonde leaning against the wall, clearly looking for someone. When she spotted Martha, Rose pushed off the wall and walked into her path. “You’re Martha right? Martha Jones?” 

Martha squared her shoulders, ready to take on this nosy bint. “Yeah, what’s it to you?”

Taking a long breath, she began, “I know y'don’t know me—not really, at least. But, y’know I used to...to go out with Jimmy, yeah?" When Martha nodded in affirmation, Rose continued, "I’ve seen you hangin’ round him. An'...well, I see the way y’look at him, and I...I know that look. You want somethin' with him.”

A sudden heat rushed through her veins, and Martha squared her shoulders in defiance. “What’s it to you if I’m with him or not? You lost your chance. So if you think you’re going to try and scare me off, you’ve got another thing coming! He’s not yours anymore, so I suggest y-...” 

“I don't!" Rose shouted, taking Martha aback with her intensity. Realizing the strength of her refutal, Rose took a breath and lowered her volume. "Martha, I swear to you, I do not want back with Jimmy! I c-...I can't...," her breathing started to become rapid, but she quickly calmed herself. "I came to…well…to warn you. You need to stay clear of him!”  
  
Rose looked at her with such pleading intensity that Martha took a literal step back. She had expected a confrontation, a cat fight of sorts—not this. Not concern. Not...fear. 

Despite that, Martha refused to allow herself to be swayed. “Warn me? Just who do y'think you are? You don’t know anything about me and I don’t need or _want_ your opinions or warnings! If I want to see Jimmy then that’s my business and you can just shove off!” Martha surprised herself with her vehemence. Normally she was cool, calm, and collected. But the idea that Rose was trying to get in her way sparked something in her. 

Finished with the unwanted and confusing conversation, Martha went to pass, but Rose grabbed her arm. “Martha, please! Ya don’t...ya don't understand. Jimmy's...well, he's not," she stopped suddenly, taking a slow breath, "not what he seems. I know he’s charming at times and ya love the attention he showers you with, but you’re only seeing what he _wants_ ya to see. It’s not real, an' I...I don't want you to find that out the hard way. You an' me might not be friends, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try to help you—and that’s all I’m trying to do.”

Martha stiffened and jerked her arm away. Glaring at Rose for good measure, she marched off to class, leaving Rose staring after her. Normally, Martha was a focused student, but she wasn't interested in what was being discussed during class; she was too busy trying to push her confrontation with Rose out of her mind. Something about it kept nagging at her. She didn’t want to believe anything Rose had said but for some reason, no matter how hard she pushed, she couldn’t completely rid her mind of her words.  
  
As she walked out of class, Martha caught sight of Jimmy looking straight at her, apparently waiting for her. He swaggered over brandishing his best cocky smile and standing incredibly close to her, their shoulders brushing. She wasn't sure what to expect, but was overwhelmingly thrilled when her hopes were finally realized--he'd finally asked her out. The rest of the day was a blur as Martha imagined the night unfolding.

Shortly after 6:00, Martha arrived at _Daniel’s_ , a local pub. She'd managed to convince Jimmy to meet her at the pub. She knew with almost absolute certainty that her mum would not approve of Jimmy, and nothing was going ruin her chance. Therefore, there was no way he was ever going to meet her.  
  
She looked around the crowded room, but couldn’t find Jimmy anywhere. Just as she was beginning to fear she had been stood up, Martha felt an arm tightly grab her elbow. She tensed up immediately at the slight pain and turned her head sharply. Seeing it was Jimmy, she felt a mixture of relief at his arrival, but confusion at his action. 

“You're late...I's startin' to think you'd backed out on me,” Jimmy said with a smile his tone didn’t convey. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I had to fix a couple things on my Lit midterm and it took longer than I expected. I practically ran to get here.”

His smile faltered ever so slightly. “I really don't like to be kept waitin', y’know.”

Martha was taken aback slightly by the subtle aggression lining his words. Seeing the questioning look in her eyes, Jimmy quickly added, “Can't fault me for wantin' to spend every minute I can with ya, can ya?”

She smiled at the compliment, forcing herself to brush off his earlier attitude. After all, Jimmy did have a point--she had been late. Moving his arm to her waist, he led her across the room to a far back corner booth. As they made their way over, Martha's eyes happened to catch sight of a familiar face among the crowd--Rose.  
  
_Is the Universe having a laugh? Does she have to pop up everywhere?_  
  
Though Martha attempted to keep her presence a secret, she was unsuccessful and their eyes met. Shock over seeing the couple was clearly evident in Rose's eyes as she discretely watched them take their seats. Rose hurriedly turned to the bloke sitting beside her and began whispering in his ear, causing him to look over at them and furrow his brow. Now that his face was clearly visible, Martha recognized the bloke as Mickey Smith, another classmate. _What's their bleedin' problem?_ Martha did her best to ignore them and focus on Jimmy and the realization of her long held hopes.

The night progressed rather...strangely. It was far from Martha's expectations. She'd often daydreamed of Jimmy's arm around her, of the warm feeling it would bring. But the arm draped over her shoulder was anything but warming. It felt...possessive, restraining. Martha mentally rebuked her thoughts, chalking it up to paranoia induced by Rose's unwanted "warning."  
  
Jimmy ordered another pint upping the total to five within two hours, and it didn’t look like he planned on stopping. Needing air, Martha excused herself to go to the loo, something which seemed to irritate Jimmy but allowed. 

After a few minutes of solitude in the stall, Martha exited and came face to face with Rose. “God, you’re like a bad penny!" Martha grumbled. "Can’t you just leave me alone?!” 

Rose looked over her person with an earnest expression. “I'm not here to ambush you, promise. Ya made it very clear I’m the last person you want to be around. I just want you know I’m here if you need me for anythin'. Just...please be careful, yeah?” 

Unsure how to respond, Martha simply nodded. With that said, Rose returned the nod and left. After a minute, Martha also left the loo. Confused by everything that had happened over the night, Martha began to hurry to the booth, not paying attention to her surroundings. Because of that, she was completely oblivious to Mickey turning from the bar and ran directly into him, causing his drink to spill down her front and Martha to gasp in shock. _Could this night possibly get any worse?_

“M’sorry! So sorry!” Mickey sputtered in embarrassment, grabbing some napkins from a nearby table. He stepped closer in attempt to help her dry off, but then suddenly realized the affected area was mainly her chest. She found herself blushing as he awkwardly moved his hands, trying to figure out what to do, before shoving the napkins in her hand with a muttered apology.  
  
As she started to dry her staining jumper, Martha was suddenly and roughly grabbed by the arm, and before she realized what was happening, she found herself slammed up against the wall outside. She was stunned, both physically and mentally. 

“Just what was that in there, eh? Throwin' y'self at that bloody idiot while I’m in the same room! That's how ya treat me?” Jimmy had her shoulders pinned against the wall. Gone was the cocky smile and was replaced with a snarl and gnashing teeth. His eyes blazed and he reeked of alcohol. Suddenly, Rose’s words came rushing back and everything became horribly and painfully clear.

_Only seeing what he wants you to see…_

_Be careful…_

_He’s not what he seems…_

_Oh my God,_ she thought, _what am I going to do? What have I gotten into?_

His grip was getting tighter and Martha could feel his nails digging into her arm. 

She tried not to panic but it getting harder to keep control in light of the escalating situation. “Lemme go, Jimmy. I wasn’t-..."

“Shut up!” he screamed at her, slamming her against the brick again. 

The impact caused her vision to blur, but Martha was still able to see his fingers clench into a fist. Fear and panic surged through her, and she begged, “Please…”  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blow—but it never came. Instead, Martha felt his hands abruptly jerk away from her and heard scuffling, immediately followed by Jimmy screaming obscenities. Her eyes flew open to see Rose standing a small distance from the grounded Jimmy, her right hand fisted. Martha looked down and saw Jimmy rolling on the ground, hands going from his nose to his groin, unsure which to comfort first. 

“Y'come near her again and y’ll get more than a right hook! You got away with hurting me for too long," she choked out, tears nearly strangling her words, as her hand clutched her stomach, "an' ya won’t do it to her. Y'won't hurt her like you did me!"

Martha sank to the ground and sobbed as a group of men exited the pub and lifted him up, restraining him. Gentle arms encircled Martha's shaking frame, and she immediately seized up—that was until she heard Rose’s voice comforting her. 

“S’alright, Martha. I promise, it’s gonna be okay. C’mon inside. These blokes got 'im and Micks called the police. We've wasted too much time 'round that bloody wanker.” Nodding her head in agreement, Martha allowed Rose to lead her inside and to a back booth far away from the crowd and their questioning eyes. 

“Wasn’t s-s-sposed to b-be like this…” Martha sobbed. "I didn't th-...I didn't listen...I'm sorry... 

Rose put her arm around her and pulled the sobbing young woman close. “I know. Believe me, I know. S'alright...important thing now is you're safe. That's all that matters, Martha. Y'want me to take ya home?”

Martha looked at the bruises already starting to form on her arms and immediately became panicked. “Oh God…I can't go home...I can’t face my mum! How do I even explain this to her? I can't go home, Rose," Martha cried, "She won't understand...she'll kill me.”

Rose hugged her again. “You can stay with me. Mum and Dad won’t care. Fact, they're probably already out for the night. My dad's still pretty weak, so he tends to go to be early.” 

Seeing the questioning look in Martha's eyes, Rose smiled softly. "I'll tell ya all 'bout it later."  
  
Martha's bloodshot eyes held no small amount of wonder. “I don’t understand. Why are you being so kind to me? I’ve been nothing but a bloody cow to you.”

Rose’s eyes shone with such warmth and compassion as she looked at her and smiling she said, “Because I've been there. I know what it's like... An' something tells me that wasn’t the real you ready to throttle me earlier."  
  
Martha chuckled softly at the memory, and Rose smiled. "C’mon…let’s get some sleep. I think we both could use it.”

The events of that night drastically altered their relationship, forging a bond neither had ever expected and one that neither would ever trade. It was a bond that had sustained them throughout the trials that had passed, and one that would help them endure what was to come.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The First Day of My Life–Bright Eyes

The morning passed fairly quickly for Martha. After Rose delivered their early morning order, she took her turn for the usual Thursday run at Gardner's Market. The immense variety of the large indoor farmer's market made it virtually impossible for one to be there less than two hours. Even with a set shopping list, Rose would no doubt take at least that amount of time, if not more.

Fortunately, Martha had not been left to manage the shop alone for very long, as Calleigh Moreland arrived midmorning. The young woman had been their only hire, and the nineteen year old had proven her worth time and again. Not only was she an immensely kind and considerate young woman, but she was one of the hardest workers either of them had ever known.

Calleigh had originally taken the job to primarily help with the cost of tuition; so when there were no customers in need, she had her nose in at least three books. However, this morning, Martha noticed that when there was a lull in customers, there were two more books added to the pile, Calleigh’s normally perfect ponytail was replaced with messy bun piled high on her head with stray locks falling every which way, and wearing her glasses instead of her usual contacts. It was obvious that the young woman was drowning in her studies, so Martha took pity on the poor creature and sent her home. Relief filled her tired eyes, and Calleigh gave Martha a teary hug. Hurriedly collecting her belongings, Calleigh rushed out the door just as Martha and Rose's favorite regular entered. This time, Donna was not alone.

The two women locked eyes and mirrored each other with bright smiles. As usual, Donna appeared happy to be there; however, the tall, skinny one looked put out and was muttering something unintelligible. Donna apparently had been able to understand him because she yelled “Oi!” before jabbing him harshly in his ribs. Martha bit her lip to contain her laughter as the man glared at her, pouting and rubbing his injured side. 

“It's about time, Donna. I was beginning to think ya wouldn't show. Who's this then?" she asked, nodding towards the unknown man, "He isn’t the legendary Jack, is he?”

The man rolled his eyes at Martha's use of “legendary” and Donna snorted. "Lord, no! Trust me--Jack's the complete opposite of this one, thank goodness. This is John.”

On learning the man's name, Martha's eyes widened in realization. “Oh yeah, your brother! It’s nice to meet you John," she extended her hand in greeting, which he returned, "I’m Martha. What can I get for ya?” 

Martha was fairly certain she heard him mutter “a shotgun,” but before she could clarify, he quickly morphed his expression and said, “Oh, I don’t know. What do you recommend?”

“Depends," Martha shrugged. "Want somethin' hot, cold, sweet, strong...?” 

Tilting his head back as if in deep thought, John said, “Weelll...I don’t know. I'm not sure coffee should really be cold. Kind of defeats the purpose, I suppose. But then you have to take into consideration the temperature outside as to whether you want to warm up or cool down. Then there's all the concoctions you have listed. But then you have non-coffee drinks and…oh tea! Tea is brilliant, but then that adds so many more variables to-..."

“Oh for the love of God," Donna cut in, backhanding his chest, "Just surprise him." Facing John, Donna gestured towards the front of the shop. “Why don’t ya go sit down in one of those big leather chairs? Give that big gob of yours a rest." As John rolled his eyes, yet again, and sulked off, Donna turned back to Martha. “Please tell me Blondie made those Red Velvet brownies! Y'know, the ones with that cream cheese swirl? She's been promising me for two weeks now.”

Martha’s mind was reeling just a bit from John's rambling, but she raised her eyebrow at Donna’s rare nickname for Rose. “Y’know she hates it when you call her Blondie, right?”

Donna smirked. “Oh, I only do it to rile her up. Plus, she-...wait, where is she?"

“She made a run this mornin' and then went to Gardner's. She should be back soon...well, hopefully. But, I think she put some of those brownies aside this morning. Lemme check the back. You want your usual, too?”

Donna looked like she was bursting with excitement. “Not today. Rose told me to try some concoction you made up. It had some kind of car name…,” she trailed off in thought.

Martha nodded her head in understanding, “Rolls-Royce? Yeah, give me a few minutes, 'kay?” 

Smiling and giddily clapping her hands in excitement, Donna went over to join her brother, and Martha went into the kitchen to retrieve the pastries. As she entered, she saw the refrigerator door was ajar. Frowning in confusion, she walked over, only to find Tony rummaging through the food. Hearing her approach, he looked up at her, eyes wide as if she had caught him with his hand in the biscuit tin. 

Martha looked at him with cross confusion. “Tony, get outta there!" she demanded, swatting his arm, "What are you doing here now, anyway? You should still be at school.”

“But, I didn’t go to sch-..."  
  
Out of nowhere, Mickey rushed to the boy and cupped his hand over Tony’s mouth, but it wasn’t soon enough. Martha was livid with what she heard. She smacked Mickey on the arm, glaring at him. 

“You didn’t take 'im to school this morning?! Mickey, this is the third time you’ve let him stay home this month. We are not raising a delinquent. He needs to be at school!" she finished, slapping him again for good measure. 

Mickey flinched as she hit him again, rubbing his tender arm. “Babe, calm down! It’s not like he’s gonna be boostin' cars now. Me and ‘im just spent the day together. He wanted to help me work on the car. I was workin’ on the engine today, so if you think about it, he was learning somethin'.”

“Mickey, that’s not the point and y'know it! We can’t just give in every time his bottom lip quivers. Tony needs to...Tony?" Martha darted her eyes about the room, "Where did he go?”

Mickey was also at a loss. “I dunno, Babe.”

“You weren’t watching, 'im?!”

“No, I was too busy bickering with you!” he shot back.

Both rushed to the kitchen door and popped their head out, only to see their nephew in avid conversation with John.

Continuing his dramatics, John listened to his sister's instructions and flopped down into the plush, worn leather chair. Though he'd fully determined that he was going to pout and mentally rant, John found himself studying his surroundings. The shop's floors were hardwood and worn with age and character. Except for the large rug under him, there were no carpets to be found. The large windows allowed the sun to freely stream in and highlight every unique feature. In addition to his own, there were three other leather chairs. The walls were brick and held various artwork, ranging from photos to paintings. There were also a few framed child drawings signed _Tony_ on the wall beside him. The ceiling had what looked like brass panels. The entire far back wall was a bookcase, floor to ceiling, with a ladder leaning against it. A dark blue, felt sofa faced the bookcase, looking like it was the most comfortable seat imaginable. The countertops were tiled and lined with assorted jars of biscotti, chocolate covered espresso beans, and even jelly babies. Various pastries and such were displayed in a rounded glass display. They looked mouthwateringly amazing. The menu on the wall looked hand written. Underneath it, there were two framed photos. One was of a middle-aged couple, the man with his arm around her shoulders as they stared lovingly at each other. The other was of Martha being embraced by a young man, and a blonde woman who looked about the same age, holding a young boy with a mess of blonde hair. John's eyes were drawn to the blonde woman's smile. He found it infectious even though it was merely a photo. John assumed the boy was her son considering he bore a striking resemblance to her. A feeling of disappointment crept over him as he thought about the possibility of the young woman being unavailable.  
  
_What was that about?_ he wondered incredulously. 

Realizing his sister was nowhere in sight, John looked around and saw Donna outside on her mobile, yelling by the look of it, and therefore leaving him to his own devices. Sighing, John picked up a book that was lying on the coffee table in front of him and started aimlessly flipping through its pages.   
  
As John turned another page, his eyes involuntarily flickered upward and locked with two inquisitive brown eyes. He lowered the book and saw that the eyes belonged to a little boy who could be no more than eight. John's eyebrows furrowed in concentration, trying to place where he had seen the boy. 

The boy cocked his head and said, “Why are ya makin' that face?”

“I’m thinking,” John said as he put down the book and leant forward to make a closer examination of the boy. _Where have I seen him?_

The little boy looked at him with a twinge of worry. “Be careful, ya might break your brain.”

John’s eyes widened a little at that unexpected remark. “What?”

The boy looked at him with complete seriousness and said, “That’s what Aunt Martha tells Uncle Mickey every time he says he’s thinkin’. He doesn’t seem to like it when she says it, either.”

 _The picture—that’s where I saw him!_  
  
A huge grin overtook John's features at the boy’s statement. “Weelll, I don’t think I have ever heard of someone breaking their brain. Although, there are times when under severe stress you can give yourself a nosebleed, but that’s not due to anything being broken. But I wouldn’t suggest you try that. It’s very messy.”

The boy giggled at his random rambling, then said, “I’m Tony.”

“I’m John. Tony, eh? I take it then that these are your masterpieces?” he asked, motioning to the pictures on the wall beside him. Tony nodded his head enthusiastically. “They’re quite good. I particularly like the one with the moons and rocket. I’m quite fond of outer space myself.”

Tony smiled brilliantly at him. “That’s Rose’s favorite, too. I drew it after she took me to that place that puts stars and planets on the ceiling. It. Was. Awesome!”

John’s smile grew wider at Tony’s enthusiasm. Tony continued his space rant. “All of those planets and moons! I wish I had a spaceship. I’d travel to every planet and meet all kinds of aliens and strange animals!”

“With a big, curious mind like yours, I bet you love going to school.” John’s smile faltered as a gloom came over Tony’s feature at the mention of school. 

Tony looked down and kicked at his trainers. “S'alright, I guess.”

John moved off the chair and onto the floor, getting closer to Tony’s level. “Obviously not. What don’t you like about it?”

“Trevor,” Tony mumbled, still averting his eyes. 

“And just who might this Trevor be?” John asked indignantly. Though he had only known this little boy for all of ten minutes, John found himself becoming increasingly upset at the thought of Tony being picked on—which he was certain was happening. 

Tony looked up at him with wide sad eyes. “He’s…he’s this boy in my class. He likes to call me names and makes jokes because I like doing science stuff...say’s I’m a geek.” 

John straightened his posture and sniffed. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with being a geek. I’m called one frequently. In fact, there are lots of girls who like the geek-chic thing,” he counter, but on seeing Tony’s tongue stick out and face grimace at the mention of girls, John switched gears. “But obviously you are too young for that to be of any benefit to you…yes, I don’t think I started caring about such things till I was at least ten, and you can’t be more than…how old are you, anyway?”

“Seven,” Tony replied, standing up tall and proud. 

“Seven," John nodded, "Good age. So you have at least three years till that becomes a concern. But in the meantime, let’s discuss this Trevor. I think he deserves to be taught a lesson don’t you?”

A look of disappointment formed on his face, and Tony shook his head. “Can't. I already asked if I could beat ‘im up, and they all said no. Even Uncle Mickey!”

Laughing heartily, John shook his head. “No, no! I’m not suggesting you beat him up. Violence isn’t the answer. You said you like experiments, yeah?” Tony nodded in affirmation. “Right. Then using that brilliant brain of yours, Mr. Tony, we’ll teach him a lesson. Tell me, Tony, do you happen to know where to get a ketchup bottle?” With that, John laid out the master plan to him and wrote some brief instructions of a scrap piece of paper. Tony listened with undivided attention and amazement, stuffing the paper into his pocket after John finished his explanation. It was not a moment too soon, for just then Martha appeared with a couple of drinks and some pastries. 

Placing them down on the coffee table, Martha looked squarely at the boy. “Tony, you aren’t botherin' John, are ya?" As he shook his now, she turned her attention to John. "I’m sorry the drinks took long so long. I was having an arg-…um, discussion…with my husband and my mind left me. I brought some extra pastries to hopefully make up for it.” 

Tony looked up at her, confusion written on his face. “I thought you and Uncle Mickey were fightin'.”

John chuckled and Martha blushed at Tony's observation. “No, sweetie. We were just discussing something rather strongly.”

Unable to hide his amusement, John grinned at their exchange before answering Martha. “He was no bother at all! Quite the opposite actually. Tony and I were having a splendid time—a real bonding moment. Hopefully, we will get to do it again.”

Martha eyed him, attempting to gauge his sincerity. “I’m glad he was no trouble. Well, I hope you enjoy the pastries. And _you_ Mister,” she said, looking sternly at Tony, “ _you_ get to tell Rose 'bout skippin' school today. Now march!” Martha guided him by the shoulders towards the back. 

“But Uncle Mickey let me!” Tony defended. 

“Yeah, an' I already yelled at Uncle Mickey. He faced the music, now it’s your turn.”   
  
As he watched them leave, John smiled again, something he realized he'd been doing a lot since he'd spoken with the little boy. He sat back into the chair and reached for his drink, sipping and smiling wider in contentment.

Finally finished with her tirade, Donna returned and settled in the chair beside him. She picked up one of the pastries, making noises of delight as she bit into it. Looking at him, she asked with a hint of knowing, “You feel better?”

John didn’t have to look at her to know that she had a smug smirk on her face. Refusing to give her the satisfaction of looking at her, he took another sip from his drink and nonchalantly said, “Maybe.” 

Donna just took another bite and smiled.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The red hair quote comes from The Quiet Man.)
> 
> Truly Madly Deeply–Savage Garden

There is a difference between living and just existing. John Noble didn’t know that difference, even though he wasn't aware of that fact. By all accounts, his life appeared ideal, and in most respects, that was accurate. True, the beginning of his life was marred by the untimely death of his parents. However, due to his age—he was three and Donna was a few months shy of two—the true depth of that tragedy was not felt. Barring that, he had a wonderful childhood. He and Donna were brought up under the loving care of their father’s eldest brother, Wilf, and his wife, Harriet. They were a rather affluent family and were rarely wanting for anything—Wilf was one of the main partners in one of London’s most prominent law firms and Harriet was a local activist and chair of several major charities. Even though they enjoyed a level of social status, Wilf and Harriet were diligent in making sure that John and Donna didn’t become pretentious, as most in those circles tended to do.

Donna grew up to be very much like Harriet—strong minded, loyal, and full of fire (“That red hair don’t lie,” as Wilf would often say). Despite never really knowing his father, John strongly favored him both in looks and character. He was tall and slender with kind brown eyes and a mess of brown hair— _really_ great hair, if he did say so himself. His father was fiercely protective of those close to him and was known for doing the right thing—no matter how hard it was at times. However, despite all his virtues, he never seemed able to give himself even a fraction of the amount of value and consideration he gave those around him. However, he was blessed to have a patient and understanding wife who anchored him and loved him without regret or hesitation—who reminded him of his worth every time he failed to acknowledge it. John immolated his father in loyalty and steadfastness of character. However, he lacked that anchor, that person who was a fundamental part of one's being. As a result, he went through the world aimlessly, unknowingly seeking a purpose, some sort of completion.

John was never one to be sedentary. When he was younger, Harriet spent countless hours running after him, swearing he was better than any personal trainer. Exceptionally brilliant, he had fully intended to pursue a degree in physics upon entering university. This came as no surprise to anyone considering all the times when growing up, various household items would explode “mysteriously” and John would conveniently be missing until the confusion and fury had blown over. What came as a surprise to everyone, himself included, was that he abandoned that plan and left school and began writing. It happened quite by accident actually. He had decided to take a class on English Literature. The first assignment was a free-write. No rules, no boundaries. His mind flourished and the words flowed. His professor praised him for his exceptional talent. With that taste in his mouth, John left school and immersed himself in writing. After the initial shock of his decision, his family, seeing his evident joy, fully supported him in his newfound passion. 

He started out small by writing freelance pieces and editorials for various newspapers–receiving wonderful commendation from almost all of them (he still insisted that one worthless wanker just had it out for him). It wasn't till after Jack Harkness—an editor at Torchwood Titles and Donna's fiancée—read his work and relentlessly hounded him that John worked up the nerve to write his first novel– _Gallifrey Burning_. It was a sci-fi novel that combined his love of all things outer space with his love of physics. To his surprise (though he'd never admit it, of course), it reached to No. 9 on the Best-Sellers list. His second, _The Year That Never Was_ , rose to No. 6. His family was ecstatically proud of him, with Jack jokingly taking credit for his "discovery." Despite the constant eye rolling and bickering, John and Jack were very close and respected each other. Jack was one his most loyal and avid supporters, and it was because of that fact that Jack was going to bat again and again for him to the senior editor, Adam Hartman.

The first half of John's third book was due in a week and he was already on his second extension. Donna knew John was nowhere near close to the vicinity of being done and "persuaded" Jack to help him again. It took every brilliant smile and ounce of smooth talking to get Adam to agree to extend it to a month. Jack finally gave it to him straight, “This is it John. After this, there's honestly nothing more I can do. I've already stuck my neck out as far as it can go. If the first half isn't complete in a month, they're gonna drop you. I'm sorry."

John couldn't figure out what was going on. The first novel had flowed without any issues. The second had some ups and downs, but overall, it had come rather easily, too. Third time was definitely NOT the charm for him. To be honest, his pitch had been from the hip and now, he was question everything about his storyline. Ideas were discarded left and right. He barely slept and was stressed exponentially. There was no sign of things getting better. That was until Donna had practically drug him to _The Cuppa_. For the first time in a long time, John felt...relaxed and had enjoyed himself immensely. He had met the precocious Tony, which had been the highlight of his day. Pure happiness and life radiated from that little boy. John felt a rush of happiness from the amazement in Tony's eyes as he explained Operation Ketchup to him. That night, he had actually slept for more than his customary two hours and woke up feeling the best he had in weeks. 

That was one of the reasons why, a few days later, he made his way back to the coffee shop (without Donna of course--she couldn't know she had been right). An elderly couple passed by him as he was walked in, making him the only one left in the shop. He was greeted by a young woman named Calleigh, who he remembered passing on the way in on that first day. She looked loads better than she had and appeared in a much better mood than last time. After a good ten minute discussion on the origin of each drink and their merit, John decided on a Funky Monkey Frappe and ordered a Milano Panini. As he was sitting down at one of the round tables, he noticed a flash of yellow pass by the kitchen opening, but gave it now further thought. He absentmindedly sipped his drink and looked out the window listening to Miles Davis playing softly in the background. At the sound of a plate being put on the table, John turned around and thanked Calleigh. As he was taking his first bite, a young blonde woman—the beauty he remembered seeing in the photo—walked his way, stopping right in front of his table. Crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, she looked at him with fire in her eyes and said one word, just one word.

“Ketchup?”


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breaking Your Own Heart–Kelly Clarkson

The question reverberated in John’s mind like a gong, deafening him to everything else. Realizing he still had a full mouth of food, he took what could have gone down on record as the longest swallow ever. _I need to play this cool_.

“Sorry...what?” he replied doing his best to feign ignorance.

The blonde wasn’t fazed in the slightest by his pretense. “I said ketchup.”

“Oh, no, I don’t need any, ta!” John flashed a brilliant, and hopefully disarming, smile and went to pick up his Panini for another bite.

With lightning speed, the blonde grabbed the plate before he could reach his food. “Oh, no you don’t! Don’t even try an' play dumb with me, mate! You know _exactly_ what I’m asking you!”

John's mouth gaped open with slight shock. “You took my plate…,” he said, looking down at the empty spot and trying to wrap his mind around her action.

Ignoring his comment and raising her voice, she said, “Answer me!”

“You. Took. My. Plate,” he repeated, his voice rising in irritation. This woman was seconds from throttling him, and yet, John was fixated on the fact she took his food. 

The young woman put the plate on the table behind her and looked back at him. “You. Were. Ignoring. Me,” she mimicked, the fire in her eyes now roaring intensely.

Her behavior ignited his own anger. “So? That was not a proportionate response! Plus, what kind of question was that anyway? You come up to me, start talking about ketchup, and then practically take the food right out my mouth! I mean who in thei-..."

Unable to tolerate any more of his ramble, the blonde broke. "Oh, for the love of God, will you just _shut it_!"

John looked at her with wide eyes and his jaw slacked even more, startled by her reaction and not knowing what to do next.

She put one hand on the table, the other on her hip, and leaned forward just enough into his personal space to make him squirm. He could've sworn he saw golden sparks firing in her eyes, and was starting to become concerned she'd set him literally ablaze. "I'm gonna use small words so you can follow me, m'kay? You taught Tony, a seven year old boy, how to rig a ketchup bottle to explode on Trevor, another seven year old boy. Have I missed anythin'?"

John opened his mouth to reply, but was immediately cut off.

" _But_...the ketchup didn't just explode on him. Oh, no! See, Mrs. Reynolds came over just about the time he opened the bottle. So-..."

She stopped abruptly when her eyes flickered up. John furrowed his brow in complete confusion as he saw her put on a small smile. But then he heard the shop door open, and her shift in attitude suddenly made sense. 

“Hello, Mr. Richards. Shift over already?” 

The older gentleman smiled at her and nodded eagerly. “G’day Rose. Yes, it is, and not a moment too soon. My grandson has a match today, an' I promised 'im I'd show. Figures to be a long on, so I thought I'd pick me up a bit of caffeine.”

Rose smiled widely at the man. "Of course. Calleigh?” she called, turning her head towards the kitchen.

Calleigh, who had taken refuge in the kitchen when she saw Rose on the warpath, cautiously exited the kitchen and looked at the small group. 

“Calleigh, would ya mind to get Mr. Richards his usual coffee and muffin? I’m currently helping this customer,” she said, motioning to John. 

Calleigh barely contained her laughter when Rose said “helping." Coughing to hide her oncoming chuckling, she smiled and nodded to Mr. Richards. “Of course, I can!”

While Calleigh and Mr. Richards made small talk, Rose remained silent and stationary. John thought about attempting to leave now that there were others present. He highly doubted that the woman, who he now knew as Rose, would cause a scene with witnesses—doubted, but wasn’t certain. Rose must have sensed his the direction his thoughts were moving because she moved closer, making it impossible for him to leave without actually pushing her out of the way. 

“See ya later, Mr. Richards. Have fun at the match!” she said as he made his way out.

“Take care, Rose.”

As soon as the door closed, the fire in her eyes reignited and she continued as if there had never been an interruption. “So, not only did Trevor get dowsed, but so did their sixty-seven year old teacher—who _also_ happens to be married to the school's headmaster!”

Something changed in John's demeanor as he heard Rose recount the happening. “You said the ketchup _did_ explode on Trevor?”

“Yes!” Rose growled.

He looked at her a moment and then nodded. “Good.”

Rose was thoroughly taken aback by his response, or lack thereof. “Excuse me?”

Narrowing his eyes, John leaned forward, further shortening the space between them. “I said, 'Good.' It’s unfortunate that the teacher was caught in the crossfire, but the intended target was taken care of so again I say, good.”

Now it was Rose’s turn to hang her mouth open in shock. She stepped back slightly, gazing at him incredulously. “Are you completely mental? Why would you tell ‘im to do that? There was no reason for you to do that!”

John stood up, his own anger starting to rise. “Yes, there was!” he yelled back. “That little brat Trevor was bullying him, and I could see Tony was miserable. I was only with him ten minutes and it was written all over his face. So, I did something about it—and you know what? I’d do it again in a heartbeat!”

As John challenged her, Rose’s blood began to boil. “You coulda told an _adult_. Martha was there, yeah? Why didn’t you talk to her about what was goin' on with 'im? Oh that’s right—children usually feel more comfortable talking to _other_ children.”

“Are you calling me a child?!” he fumed, his jaw twitching with barely restrained fury.

“Blowin’ up ketchup bottles? Sounds pretty childish to me!”

“Well, at least I was paying attention to Tony! It's more than I can about you!” he spat out.

Silence irrupted in the room, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Rose looked like she had been physically struck, and John knew he had gone too far with his words. The fire flashed in her eyes but was joined with hurt. 

“Get. Out,” she seethed, swiftly turning and walking towards the kitchen.

John whirled around and took off towards the door. “With pleasure... and believe me, I’m _never_ coming back to this bloody place!” 

xxx

The day after his and Rose’s confrontation, John was sitting on his sofa, engaged in his usual staring contest with his computer screen, when the door opened and in walked his brother-in-law. Jack stood beside him and dramatically put his hand on John’s shoulder.

“I just want you to know that it’s been great knowing you, and I’ll really miss you.”

John rolled his eyes at the familiar antics. “What are you on about, Jack?”

Before Jack could elaborate, Donna blurred in and began smacking John.

“You bloody idiot! You stupid, stupid, stupid idiot!”

Scrambling out of the chair, John quickly put distance between himself and his irate sister. “Oi! What is your bloody problem?” _What is it with women attacking me?_ His eyes flittered to Jack, who put his hands in front of him in the universal sign for “Leave Me Out Of It” and went to get a drink from the refrigerator. 

“My problem? _My problem?_ He wants to know my problem," she said, briefly turning towards her husband, "You showed that little boy how to blow up a bloody ketchup bottle!” 

Having been ignorant to the details, Jack spat his drink out, laughing at the information. However, he quickly sobered when Donna again snapped her head his direction. “C’mon on, Donna. You gotta admit, it’s a _little_ funny.”

“Zip it, you!” she ordered before looking back at John. “Then, you get into a bloody shoutin' match with Rose!”

John leapt to his own defense. “She overreacted! Storming over, calling me a child, yelling at me…oh, and she took my food! I was really enjoying it, too. The food, not the yelling. Although, when she yells, her eyes get this…," John shook his head, clearing his mind of sudden unwanted thoughts, "Wait, never mind. Not important. What _is_ important is that I helped Tony, and that Fire Demon just blew everything way out of proportion!”

“She good lookin'?” Jack suddenly spoke up. Both John and Donna looked at him.

“What’s that matter?” John asked, trying to bat off reoccurring images of the fierce beauty that was Rose.

Jack grinned and waggled his brow. “Fighting can be a lot of fun...especially if they’re good lookin'. Right, Sweetheart?” he said, looking at Donna, winking and flashing a cheeky grin. She shot him a fierce look but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Turning back to John, she crossed her arms and gave him a waiting look.

“What?" John squawked, throwing his hands up, "Don't look at me like that. I’m never going back there, so you have nothing to worry about. No more fights with your little friend.”

“You don’t see anywhere you might have gone too far? Like implying that Rose neglected Tony? That's right, I know what ya said.”

Ashamed at the recollection, all John could do was sigh. She was right, no doubt about it. Deciding not to press further, Donna reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. 

“We have to go. We have reservations for dinner in an hour. But I promised to give this to you.” Placing the paper in his hand, she and Jack took their leave.

John unfolded the paper and read the child writing.

_Deer John,_

_Sory Rose was meen. Yur frend._

_Tony_

Flipping it over, John saw a picture of two people in a rocket surrounded by stars. At the top was written, _John and Tony In Space._

The following day, John returned to the coffee shop, although a bit unsuredly.

There were a couple of people sitting at the tables talking and a couple more reading in the leather chairs. His eyes flitted about the room, and John caught sight of Rose stocking the front counter. As he watched her go about her tasks, John could feel his feet itching to run, to back out. But on remembering Tony’s picture, John garnered his courage and hesitantly walked to the counter. 

Taking a breath, John cleared his throat. “Hello.”

Whirling around, Rose looked up at him, surprise written all over her face. “H-hello.”

They stared at each other for a minute, the silence awkward. 

“I’m sorry,” they suddenly said in unexpected unison. This surprised both of them, and they both chuckled nervously.

John spoke first. “I just wanted to-..."

Stopping him, Rose put up a finger. "One sec, m'kay?” 

John nodded and Rose went into the kitchen. A moment later, Rose came out with Martha close behind her. If Rose was fire, then Martha was ice because he definitely felt a chill from her frigid gaze. On seeing them emerge together, John expected an ambush. However, Martha stayed behind the counter while Rose motioned for him to follow her to the sofa. They sat down together, both keeping their eyes forward. Silence settled between them again. Finally, Rose turned toward him. 

“I’m sorry I snapped. Don’t mistake me—I still think you're a complete nutter for teaching 'im to blow up ketchup bottles in people’s faces, but…but you were lookin’ out for Tony. You…,” looking away, Rose took a long swallow, trying to hold back what looked like tears, then continued, “Ya saw somethin' I missed. And ya cared enough to want to help…so thank you for that.”  
  
Those same eyes that had nearly ignited him two days ago now looked at him with sincere appreciation and warmth. John instantly felt his head swim as he held her gaze, but quickly snapped himself out of it. 

“No. I’m sorry. I-I should have gone to Martha or something. To be perfectly honest, I probably would still have gone through with Operation Ketchup, but I should've had a failsafe. I really didn’t mean to get your son in-..."

“Brother,” she cut him off.

“Sorry?”

“He’s not...Tony's not my son. He’s my brother,” Rose clarified, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind her ear with her left hand. A hand, John noticed, that was clearly missing a ring.

“Oh,” he said and started to grin like a fool. “Brother, then. I really didn’t mean to get him into trouble. Really didn’t expect the teacher to be collateral damage. How furious was she?”

“No more so than usual, cranky ol’ bat. Fairly certain she was a gargoyle in another life,” she laughed. 

Joining in her laughter, John began relishing in the melodic sound of her laughter.  
  
The moment was broken when John eard, “Joooohhnn!," followed by Tony’s small body slamming into his. 

Tony’s eyes danced with unrestrained glee. “Ya came back!”

John’s smile widened at seeing the little boy. “Indeed, I did! How are you, Tony?”

The little boy looked like he would burst from excitement. “I’m great now! I was worried ya wouldn’t come back after Rose was mean to you. But she’s not always like that. She’s really awesome when you get to know her! Promise!” he finished, beaming at her. 

John looked from him to her. “I’m sure she is.”  
  
A faint blush colored Rose's cheeks at his tone, and she quickly turned her gaze downward. On realizing the tone of his words, John jerked his gaze away from her and back to Tony. Pointing to his backpack, he asked, “What did you fill your brilliant brain with today?”

Tony ripped open his bag and started telling John all about his day while pulling out various things to show him. Rose sat for a moment and watched their animated interaction before leaving them to their own devices, walking away with a thoughtful smile on her face. When she reached the front counter, Martha was there waiting. She took a long look at Rose and then crossed her arms. 

“That's a new look.”

Rose raised her eyebrows. “Look? What look?”

Martha pointed at her, and circling her face, said, “ _That_ look.”

“I have no idea what you’re talkin' 'bout,” Rose huffed and walked into the kitchen. 

“Mm-hmm,” Martha said, narrowing her eyes. "Somehow I doubt that."


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few lyrics mentioned from Bennie and the Jets by Elton John.
> 
> Oh Boy–Duffy

_A multitude of horns were blaring, encompassing her in their harshness. Tires continued to screech and cry out as they attempted to halt their approach. It was not enough, though. It was never enough. Once again, she was screaming her throat raw as she witnessed the unimaginable.  
  
Suddenly, the horns were no more, replaced by the unnatural sound of twisting metal. Screams echoed from every corner, and then she was running. She was always running. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she rushed forward. Smoke was everywhere...so, so much smoke.   
  
Hands appeared out of nowhere, trying to hold her back, their fingers digging into her arms. Fighting them off with an unexpected strength, she stumbled to the unidentifiable wreckage in time to their hands reaching for one another, entwining their fingers for the last time. Tears scalded her cheeks, the smoke burned her eyes as she began beating on the metal, trying to get them out. Reaching through the broken glass to feel them again, her fingers strained to touch their chilling skin, desperate for physical contact. Looking into their eyes one last time, she watched the life fade away.  
  
Again, she was pulled away, her arms wildly flailing, allowing her to see the gashes on her arms, the streaks of blood on her hands. Whose blood it was, she was uncertain. All she knew was that she couldn’t breathe. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't……_

Rose shot up out of bed, gasping for the air that her dream had denied her. Clutching at the sheets till her knuckles whitened, she took several ragged breaths, trying to steady herself in the wake of the nightmare.   
  
_C’mon Rose. Just bloody get it together._  
  
Strands of blonde hair stuck to her perspired brow. Pushing the errant strands aside, Rose picked up her phone and looked at the time—3:48 A.M. She knew for a certainty that there was no way she would be able to go back to sleep; she never was able to after such episodes.   
  
Tiredly making her way downstairs, Rose went to the kitchen and put on the kettle. Tea always had a calming effect on her, stemming from when she was a little girl and her mum would lovingly prepare a cuppa for her after a troubling dream. Rose could still vividly remember the near elegant flow with which her mum prepared tea. How she would climb onto her mum's lap and sip the steaming liquid, comforted by its warmth. How the gentle swaying and stroking of her hair lulled away her fears. How she'd always felt so safe and secure in her warm, loving embrace.  
  
The blaring steam whistle brought Rose back to the present. Batting back the tears that suddenly threatened to fall, she prepared her tea and quietly sat down at the kitchen table, focusing on letting the hot liquid melt away the dark images that had ripped her from her sleep.

“Rose? Wha' are you doin' up?” Mickey asked groggily as he shuffled in, his eyes squinting as he tried to adjust to the light, though it was dim. 

Not wanting to discuss the true reason, she offered a tight smile and shrugged. “Couldn't sleep. Needed some tea. Want one?”

Nodding, he plopped down in a chair. “Sounds good, thanks.”

Pouring him a cup, she reclaimed her seat. Mickey took a few sips and quietly studied her. Still silent, he scooted his chair closer to her. Rose fidgeted in her seat, knowing what he was going to ask, and berating herself for thinking that she could fool him after so many years.

“How bad was it this time?” he asked softly, looking at her knowingly. 

Rose took a deep yet shuddering breath, trying to steady herself as she felt bile rise in her throat and tears prick her eyes. Without looking at him, she said, “I’ve had worse. Still shook me, though.”   
  
She felt his arm go around her and she instinctively leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. Taking a few more breaths, Rose finally forced back the hot tears that had threatened to fall.   
  
Mickey said no more after that, simply keeping his arm around her in protective comfort. After a while, Rose insisted that he return to bed, seeing the effort he was putting into remaining awake. Even though he was exhausted, Mickey didn’t feel right about leaving her in what he knew was such a raw state. He and Martha had both witnessed the aftermath of her nightmarish memories, in various levels of intensity. It was only after Rose made several assurances that she was genuinely alright that Mickey reluctantly acquiesced, kissing the top of her head, and making his way back upstairs.   
  
Deciding that she had wasted enough time sitting around, Rose went to the shop early, figuring she could do some extra baking and preparations for the noontime rush. 

The morning was unexpectedly busier than usual and kept her on her toes till Martha came in around 11:00. Finally a much needed lull descended upon the shop, and Rose made herself a caramel breve, leaning against the countertop and languidly sipping the creamy contents. Reaching under the counter, she pulled out a book that she kept there specifically for such moments. This month's selection was _Pride & Prejudice_. It was her favorite, which was evident by the beyond worn spine and faded pages. She had just finished reading of Mr. Collins’ unwelcomed arrival when John Noble walked into the shop. Their eyes met, and he smiled warmly at her. Of their own accord, her thoughts instantly shifted to how happy she was to see him, and how even more _astoundingly_ handsome that smile made him. _  
  
Don’t go there, Rose!_ _Just...just don't..._  
  
She put down her book, and mirrored him smile.

“This makes three days in a row, John. Careful, I'm beginnin' to think ya like the place.” 

“Weelll, maybe just a little,” he grinned, "What's not to like?" 

Rose felt an unfamiliar and frightening stirring within her chest at that brilliant grin, and that reaction troubled her greatly. There was no reason for her to be feeling that way, and it was much too risky.   
  
_Stop this...stop it now! Get your bloody head outta the clouds an' focus!_

  
  
“So," she said, clearing her throat, "are you gonna be more decisive today, or are we gonna have yet another Q&A on everythin' under the sun?” she asked teasingly, poking her tongue through her teeth. 

John's grin broadened, becoming increasingly brilliant ( _something she honestly needed him to stop doing)_ and said, “Every barista should know their product, don't you think?"

She raised an eyebrow. “Look at you, knowin' what a barista is! Half the people that come here call me a coffee girl or waitress.”

“Weelll, I _am_ rather brilliant.”

”And just dripping with humility, too,” Rose chuckled. “Tell ya what, how 'bout I choose today?”

“What if I don’t like what you decide?” he teased.

Rose put her hand to her chest, feigning offence. “You doubt my abilities?" she chuckled, "I’ll make you a deal. If y'don’t like it, I’ll give ya free drinks for a week.”

“No, she won’t,” Martha immediately hollered from the kitchen. 

Rose rolled her eyes. “Ignore her. So…what d'ya say?"

Smiling even wider, John nodded. “I say you've gotta deal, Rose Tyler.”With that, he backed away and took a seat on the blue sofa.

Chuckling once more, Rose began putting the ingredients into the blender—white chocolate base, coconut and macadamia nut syrup, half and half, and ice. She topped it off with homemade whipped cream and a very light dusting of coconut shavings. Satisfied with her presentation, Rose took the drink and made her way back to John. Seeing her, he put down the book he was flipping through, and took the drink. He pulled out his glasses and began putting on a show of studying it—holding it up, sniffing it, rubbing a little whipped cream between his fingers before darting his tongue out to taste it.

Groaning, she rolled her eyes and playfully backhanded his arm. “Oh for goodness sake, just drink the bleedin' thing, will ya?”

Grinning, John took a sip, his eyes widening at once. He pulled back and looked from the drink to her. “This is fantastic!” he said and then went back to greedily slurping it down.

She smiled, tongue in teeth. “Told ya! Although, I wouldn’t drink it so fast, or..."

John scrunched his eyes and grabbed his forehead.

“That'll happen,” Rose finished, giggling. 

Quickly recovering, John went back to eagerly sipping on his drink. “So, what do you call this brilliance?”

Rose took a seat next to him, though maintained a comfortable distance. “Barnett Blast. When we were fixin’ this place up, we had some electrical issues. Messed wiring or whatnot. We were a bit hard-pressed for money, so the electrician did the job for less than half the cost. We wanted to thank him, but 'course, we didn't have the money. So we named a drink after 'im. 'S one of our best sellers—he’s quite proud of it, too. Brags to anyone who'll listen.”

“I can see why. It’s-...," he broke off, slurping every last bit of drink through the straw, “amazing.” 

His childlike enthusiasm was adorable, and Rose couldn't help but laugh. Suddenly remembering the lateness of the hour, she checked the time. “Sorry, but I’ve gotta fetch Tony from school,” she apologized to him, hurriedly standing up. 

John tugged nervously at his ear, seemingly unsure of himself. “Would, um…would you like some company?”

Rose was surprised by his offer. Surprised, yet incredibly happy. A reaction, she told herself, that was based solely on the fact that she enjoyed his company and that Tony would be thrilled, nothing more. “Uh, sure. I mean that’s...that's if you _wanna_ come.”

John nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I’d love to come.”

“Okay,” she replied, a bit too breathy for her liking. Clearing her throat to hide her encroaching embarrassment, she began walking with John towards the exit. “I’m heading out now, Martha. Be back in a bit," she called out.

When they got outside, Rose turned to him and said, “It’s just a few minutes from here. Don’t mind walkin', do ya?”

He shook his head. “No, not at all.”

There was only a brief silence before Rose began to speak. “So what do you do, John? For work, that is.”

“I’m a writer, actually.”

“Really?” she questioned, her eyes wide with slight surprise.

John smirked at her expression. “That so hard to believe?”

An embarrassed blush crept across her cheeks. “No, I didn’t mean it like...like that. Just kinda unexpected, s'all. Tony said ya were really into science, and after that whole ketchup thing, I guess I just assumed you did something along those lines.”

“I wanted to, actually. Started out in Physics, but I took an English Lit class and after that I was hooked. I found it...I don’t know…”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “Liberating?” she offered.

John looked down at her, his dark chocolate eyes warm and his smile bright. “Yes, exactly. Wrote some small stuff, then Jack pestered me to try my hand at a novel. First one did really well, so I wrote a second and that did a quite a bit better. I’m working on the third now.”

“So what’s it about?” Rose inquired. 

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her sheepishly. “Not quite sure at the moment. I seem to be a little... stuck, as it were.”

“What were the others about?”

“Well, they were science fiction. Time travel and temporal displacements, things like that. I didn’t have too much trouble with them, so I’m not sure why this time is so different,” he said, frustration evident in his voice. 

“Do you _want_ to write another one?” Rose asked, looking up at him. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” John looked at her with a look she couldn’t identify. Surprise? Confusion? Rose wasn’t sure. 

She shook her head. It wasn’t her place to question his choices. “No reason," she waved off, "Just askin'. So what are they cal-..."   
  
The question died on her lips, because suddenly, John grabbed her hand and jerked her close as a bicyclist raged by, just narrowly missing her. Looking at each other slowly, they both suddenly realized that they were _very_ close, practically flush against each other, their hands firmly entwined. For the second time that day, Rose couldn’t breathe; except this time, it was due to a different type of terror. They quickly pulled away, both blushing. “T-thanks for savin' me,” she stuttered, briefly looking up a him through her lashes.

“Always,” he said, the tops of his ears turning bright red.

A loud bell shattered the silence, causing them both to jump. Rose turned and realized that they were in front of the school. A few moments later, they saw Tony come running out, and Rose was grateful for his quick arrival. Tony ran and threw his arms around Rose in a tight embrace. Then, seeing John, he tossed his bag on the ground and jettisoned onto him. John looked just as happy to see Tony, and quickly pulled him into a warm hug.

“What are ya doin' here, John?” Tony asked excitedly. 

Smiling and ruffling the crop of blonde hair, John said, “Weelll, I couldn’t let Rose here walk all alone. Plus, I wanted to see my favorite scientist.”

“Awesome!”

“My thoughts exactly,” John chuckled. 

Rose watched the exchange with extreme pleasure. It was the happiest she'd seen Tony, and John's genuine interest and affection warmed her heart. No one outside of their small family had ever shown such attention to him. Pulling herself from her musings, she addressed them both. “C’mon, you two. We can’t leave Aunt Martha by herself for too long,” Rose said, taking Tony’s hand. 

“Can I ride on your shoulders, John?” Tony asked, widening his big brown eyes in pleading.

“Tony!” Rose scolded, bopping his head. 

Laughing a the young boy's request, John lowered himself so that Tony could climb up. 

Rose was genuinely embarrassed at Tony's forwardness. “John, please. Y'don’t have to do that! Tony, that was just rude!”

“But Roooose!" Tony drawled, "He’s sooo tall. I can see everythin'! I'm like a Transformer.”  
  
"Who let you watch _Transformers_?" Rose demanded.  
  
"Oops," Tony winced, "I promised Uncle Mickey it'd be a secret."  
  
"That bloody git," Rose mumbled, narrowing her eyes. "Still, it doesn't matter. Y'can't just climb all over John like he's a bleedin' tree." 

“It’s really alright, Rose. I don’t mind,” John assured her. His answer put her at ease, but a twinge of embarrassment remained as they began their return to the shop. 

“John, do ya like pancakes?” Tony suddenly asked. 

Though it was at an awkward angle, John looked up and smiled. “Of course! Who doesn’t?”

“Awesome! 'Cause Sunday is Pancake Day. Rose makes the most awesome pancakes. Sometimes, she puts chocolate chips in them or peanut butter. This last time, she put strawberries and whipped cream on them. So ya should come over and eat pancakes with us!”

“Tony! Stop it! Ya can't just put people on the spot. Maybe John doesn’t want pancakes. Maybe he has plans.” Rose could feel her cheeks getting hot with embarrassment, and she buried her face in her hands. 

Doing his best to look at his friend, Tony asked, “Do ya have plans, John?”

“Nope. Free as a bird,” John answered, smiling widely and looking from Tony to Rose whose face was now uncovered.  
  
_Oh God, there’s that smile again._

“See, Rose! He likes pancakes and he has no plans. Can he come over for pancakes? Please? Please? Puuh-leeeeaaase?” Tony drawled dramatically, turning those big brown orbs at her. 

“Yeah, Rose, please?” John joined in, his eyes even more big and brown.

Rose couldn’t help but smile at their pleading expressions. “Of course. That is, if you’re sure you want to.”   
  
Her answer was met with cheers from both John and Tony. The three of them chatted as they made their way to the shop. Rose could see a queue forming and she rushed in to help Martha as John said goodbye to them.

An hour before closing, Mickey dropped by to take Tony home. All three adults decided they were too tired to cook a real meal, so they decided they would get take-away and movie after the two girls were home from closing the shop. When it was finally 8:00, Rose turned off the neon _Open_ sign and plugged her mobile into the sound system. She smugly reminded Martha that it was her turn to take care of the dishes, to which Martha responded by rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue. Laughing outright, Rose began sweeping and cleaning off tables. As she picked up the rag to clean off the display case and counters, one of her favorite songs came on, _Bennie and the Jets._ Turning up the volume till it was blaring, Rose began to dance and sing along to the upbeat tune. 

_She's got electric boots a mohair suit_

_You know I read it in a magazine_

_Bennie and the Jets_

Just as she enthusiastically belted out the third “ _Bennie_ ," Rose dancingly turned and saw John at the window, shrieking in surprise and droppin the Windex and rag. Hurriedly running over to her mobile, she quickly turned down the sound, and went to the door, feeling like she would vomit from embarrassment. 

John stood there, his grin reaching from ear to ear, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Sorry to bother your...cleaning, but I think I left my mobile here. I couldn’t find it when I got back to my flat.”

“Oh...yeah...s-sure, come in,” Rose stuttered, holding the door open for him to come in and steadfastly avoiding his fixated gaze. They both checked around where he sat earlier, and after less than two minutes, found it under the cushion. 

“Got it!” he declared, holding it up in triumph. 

“Oh...Good. That's...that's good,” she fumbled, still embarrassed. 

They both walked to the front door.

Still grinning manically, John looked at her and said, “I’ll see you Sunday, Rose.”

“See ya Sunday, John,” she said, swiftly closing the door and locking it after him. When he was out of sight, she leaned her back against the door, closed her eyes, and sighed.  
  
_Oh boy,_ _I think I'm in real trouble._


	8. Chapter Seven

When John awoke the next morning, he felt incredibly refreshed. His brief afternoon with Rose and Tony had been more than wonderful; it had been one of the best times he’d had in a very long time. Even though he'd only known him for about a week, John loved that little boy. Tony was so full of, well, everything—life, excitement, intelligence, and so much more. And Rose…well, John found himself thinking more and more of her. She made him feel...different. A good different. A brilliant different. An “I-can’t-keep-a-straight-thought-when-I-look-at-you” different. It was exhilarating and more than a little frightening, if he was being honest. He was feeling such intensity in such a short amount of time, and it was an entirely new experience for him.  
  
Of course, their first encounter had by no means been ideal. In fact, John was more than a little lucky Rose hadn’t slapped him senseless. She was full of a fire he had never seen—her eyes sparking with such ferocity that she could have easily set him ablaze. John would have found her passion entrancing had he not been preoccupied in fighting with her. After such a fiery encounter, John half expected her to remain irate and refuse any and all interaction with him. But he had been pleasantly surprised to find his preconceived notions debunked. Rose had not only apologized, but had treated him with such genuine warmth and kindness, even after his uncalled for implication of negligence. She was quite...extraordinary. Her smile—God, it was beautiful. And her hand in his felt like…perfection. Even now, it still tingled from the sensation. And then, watching her dance...John couldn’t help but smile when he recalled the scene from the previous night.  
  
_This is nonsense. Complete and utter nonsense. I don’t know anything about her! I sound like some infatuated teenager. For God’s sake, I’m a grown man!_

John quickly turned his thoughts to yesterday's other events, in particular Rose’s question. 

_“Do you want to write another one?”_

At the time, he had wanted to press her for her meaning, but she had quickly brushed it off and had said no more on the subject. John knew there must have been a reason for her asking such a question, but he couldn't determine it. Of course he wanted to write another one—he was a writer, that’s what writers do. And considering the first two did so well, it was only logical to keep going. And, he couldn’t disappoint his family—not after all they had done to support and encourage him. However, the question still bugged him. But there was no sense in driving himself mad over the subject, so John pushed it the recesses of his mind.  
  
Looking at the time, he realized that his musings had put him behind, and now he was running late for his lunch with Donna and Jack. Thankfully when he arrived, Donna was still in the process of cooking, so he was safe from her reprimand. This allowed him and Jack to relax and idly chat. 

“Sooo…whatever happened with Rose? I heard you ended up apologizing which surprised me. Stubbornness runs deep in your family, as I know from firsthand experience,” Jack said with a smirk. 

“You better watch it. If Donna hears you, you’ll see some other traits that run deep,” John needlessly warned. He knew Jack was well aware of Donna’s traits and quirks. Rather than being put off, Jack actually adored Donna for them, seeing past her at times gruff exterior to the beautiful and caring person she was at heart. Though they appeared like oil and water, they truly complemented each other and deeply loved each other—a fact which John felt himself envious of at times. 

Jack looked at him expectantly. “So…?”

John looked back towards the kitchen, suddenly feeling fidgety under Jack's questioning stare. “Wonder how much longer till she’s done.”

A knowing smirk made its way onto Jack's face, and he said, “You’re avoiding the question, which I take it to mean it went _very_ well.”

John rolled his eyes, as he tended to do in his conversations with Jack. He knew that he needed to choose his words very, very carefully because Jack was like a bloodhound, and if he caught even the slightest scent of interest on John’s part, he would pounce. 

“She apologized for biting my head off. I apologized for being a prat. That’s about it really.”

Jack quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “That’s it? So you haven’t seen or talked to her since?”

John fidgeted again and looked away. “Weelll, I’ve been back a few times. What does it matter anyway?”

Jack's eyebrow inched higher. “Because I can tell there’s more to it than you’re lettin' on. You’re being evasive and fidgety. Plus, you instantly got this lovesick puppy look in your eyes when I mentioned her name. So, still wanna insist that there’s _nothing_ more?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Jack," John sniffed, "I’ve barely known her a week. That’s hardly enough time to be lovesick. Quit reading into things.”

Scoffing, Jack said, “That’s crap and y'know it. I’d only known Donna a few hours before-..."

John quickly held up his hand, grimacing. “Please...Don’t finish that! I don’t need or want to know how that sentence was going to end. Knowing you, it would probably scar me for life. She's my sister and I... just don't.”

Jack laughed. “Whatever. Despite my track record and despite what may you think, I was going to say that I knew I had met someone special, even though I had only known her a couple hours. Sometimes you just know before you know, you know?”

“Wow," John rolled his eyes, "Poetically profound. You should write that down.”

Jack frowned at him. “Don’t be a jerk. What I mean is, sometimes a part of you knows that you’ve found somethin' special before your brain knows the reasons why.”

John considered this for a minute.  
  
_I’m so going to regret talking to him about this._

“Ok, so _maybe_ I find her intriguing. She’s young and has a successful business. She has passion, that’s for sure. And I admire her for raising Tony. Jack, you should see that little boy. He’s truly amazing. Brilliant, too. Clever. He was able to get Rose to invite me to-...," he broke off, immediatly knowing that he had opened the wrong door.

Jack’s eyebrows practically met his hairline. “You have a date with Rose?"

“It’s not a date. It’s just Pancake Day.”

Jack blinked at him.“Yeah, I have no clue what that is.”

“Apparently, it’s a day where they make pancakes. Pretty self-explanatory," John grumbled.

“ _Make_ pancakes? So, you’re going to her house then. Sounds like a date to me." Jack couldn't help the grin taking over his features.

John’s irritation was quickly rising. “Jack. It’s _not_ a date.”

“John, don't be an idiot. You’re going over to the house of a woman, who you’re clearly in to, so she can make a home-cooked meal and you can spend time getting to know her family. Hate to break it to you, bud, but it sounds like a date. Pretty big one, at that.”

“What’s a date?” Donna asked, suddenly appearing.

_Oh God, this just keeps getting better and better..._

Jack looked at her with his cocky smile. “John has a date with Rose.”

Donna’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Seriously? Blimey, that was fast!

“It’s not a date!” John shouted, beyond frustrated at the turn of events.

“They're having pancakes,” Jack said to Donna, smiling at John’s obvious discomfort and frustration.

Donna snorted at John. “Well, aren’t you a romantic.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing and willing his sudden headache away. “It’s _not_ a bloody date. Tony asked me to come over to eat pancakes tomorrow. Rose said it was okay. If anything, I’m going to spend time with Tony. Again, it’s _not_ a date!”

“Right…,” Donna said, smiling and nodding her head slowly before winking at her husband. Clearly, she wasn’t buying that John was just going to spend time with Tony. Not when his attraction to Rose was apparent.

“You are both impossible! Can we just eat please?” John asked, a little bit of pleading in his voice. 

Jack and Donna exchanged one more round of knowing smiles, but decided to take pity on the squirming man before them. As they made their way to the table, John knew that he had most certainly not heard the last on this subject. Not by a longshot. 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You–Cary Brothers

As he approached the door, John felt his palms become sweaty and his stomach begin to somersault. He hoped that he'd read the address right, considering Rose had scribbled it in a hurry on her way into the shop. But based on the child’s bicycle and various toys in the small front yard, John felt fairly certain that he had the right address. A few moments after pressing the doorbell, a young, dark-skinned man answered the door, wearing a friendly, yet puzzled expression on his face. John immediately recognized him from the photo he'd seen at the coffee shop, and for a horrifying moment, feared that maybe this man was Rose’s boyfriend. That is until he saw the silver wedding band on his hand. 

“Can I help you?” the man asked, still smiling. 

Only when he opened his mouth to answer, did John realize that he had been holding his breath. “Uh, yes-hi, I’m John...John Noble. I was-..." He was cut off by a voice he recognized as Martha’s in the background.

“Who is it, Mick?” she asked, coming to the door to see for herself. On seeing him, she smiled and said, “Hey, John! C’mon in. Mickey, this is the bloke Rose said was comin' over. He’s Donna’s brother. John, this is my husband Mickey.”

Mickey smiled and shook his hand. “Nice to meet ya, John. You must be the one Tony has talked about almost nonstop.” 

Even though John could tell his smile was genuine, he still felt like Mickey was making a silent study of him. It made him slightly uncomfortable—like he was meeting a girl’s father for the first time.   
  
_Which of course isn’t the case, because this is most certainly not a date,_ John reiterated to himself.   
  
As he entered the home, he was hit with the tantalizing aroma of banana, butter, and vanilla. Taking in his surroundings, he couldn't help but notice that Rose was nowhere in sight. Before John could inquire about her, Tony came down the stairs, still clad in his Superman jimjams, plopping one foot in front of the other and rubbing his eyes. On seeing John, he gave a sleepy smile and eagerly ran to hug him. 

Yawning, Tony greeted him. “Hi, John!”

“Good morning, Tony. You sleep well?”

Still rubbing his eyes and taking another long yawn, he said, “Yeah, but now I want pancakes. Aunt Martha, are they ready?”

“Soon, love. Rose woke up late this mornin', so she’s running a bit behind,” Martha said smilingly, ruffling his hair. 

“Does she need any help?” John asked rather hopefully.

“Uh, I’m not sure. You can check with her. She’s in the kitchen—it’s just through there,” Martha said, grinning and pointing the way. 

John made his way towards the kitchen while the other three went into the living room. As he neared the kitchen, he heard a beautiful, melodic humming. As he reached the doorway, John saw Rose swaying slightly back and forth, humming some tune he didn’t know. She was in an oversized, well-worn hoodie and shorts. He thought the outfit a contradiction, but considering it showed off her long shapely legs, he didn’t find any fault with it. Her long blond hair was up in a messy bun on the top of her head, with a few strands framing her face and grazing her neck. John had to make a conscious effort to breathe, because he found looking at her made the task too difficult to do involuntarily. He couldn’t think of anything more captivating than this woman gently swaying back in forth, the rays of sunlight highlighting her soft features. For a moment, John forgot why he had come into the kitchen in the first place. Finally, his thoughts came back to him. 

He cleared his throat, and smiling asked, “Do you need any help?”

Rose slightly jumped at his unexpected voice and inadvertently touched the skillet, stumbling back in pain.

“Ow! God... that bloody hurts!” she yelped, grabbing her hand and biting her lip.

John rushed over to her. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you! Here—let me see,” he said, gently taking her hand in his. Seeing a small red welt forming, he picked up the cloth from off the counter and wet it with some cold water, never letting go of her hand. He didn’t think he could let go of her, even if he wanted. Taking the rag, he gently put it the burn. He felt a small shiver pass, unsure if it was from him or her. 

“You alright?” he asked, worry and concern evident in his face. Rose held his gaze, and John felt the shiver again. 

“Uh…yeah. The rag’s just cold,” she said, quickly averting her eyes as her cheeks began to pink.

If John thought her breathtaking before, then he had no words for what she was at that moment. Trying to focus on anything besides her gorgeous face, he turned his gaze to the task at hand. Suddenly, Rose's head shot upward and she pulled away from him, running over to the stove.

She flipped the pancake over to reveal a circle of solid black. “Crap! Well…," she sighed, turning to John. "Guess this one’s yours for scaring the life outta me,” she teased, poking a little bit of tongue through her teeth as she smiled.

John pouted briefly before breaking out into a grin. “Don’t I get any points for coming in to help in the first place? Plus, I did just give you exceptional medical attention.”

“Oh, alright. Next time though, you burn it, you eat it!”

“Weelll, technically, _you_ were the one who burned it, so I think I should be exempt from punishment.”

Rose turned, spatula in hand, pointed at him, but still smiling, said, “Don’t anger the person makin' your food. It never ends well.”

It was then that Mickey came in whining, “Oi, Rose, step it up! I’m gettin' ready to eat the batter if you’re not done soon.”

Rolling her eyes, she took the spatula and swatted the air near Mickey. “Oh, shut it, Mick. You’re worse than Tony. Gimme like ten more minutes, yeah? Unless you wanna go at it?” she suggested, holding the spatula out to him.

Mickey shook his head. “Not after last time.”

John raised an eyebrow and asked, “What happened last time?”

“I sorta melted the spatula...and part of the pan,” Mickey said with a slight smirk.

“How did you manage that?”

“We’re still trying to figure it out,” Rose laughed. “Personally, I think he did it on purpose so we’d stop askin' 'im to cook, 'cause he hasn’t cooked since. Have ya, lazy bum?”

“I would never,” he said, winking at John when Rose’s head was turned. “Oh, this time, don’t forget to put banana slices on the top of mine.”

With that annoying request, Rose really did hit him with the spatula. “Mickey, get outta my kitchen! You’re complainin' I’m taking too long and you’re in here nattering on. Bugger off!” she commanded, smacking him again for good measure before he finally left them alone. 

Soon after, John helped Rose set the table and after a few more minutes, they all sat down to eat. John had to agree with Tony—Rose made awesome pancakes. They were moist, buttery, and most importantly, they were banana—his favorite. As he enjoyed the scrumptious meal, John took in the scene before him contentedly. Rose bantered with Mickey and Martha as if they were siblings. Mickey kept his arm around Martha, occasionally kissing the top of her head. This would lead to Martha complaining that he was getting syrup in her hair, but based on the smiles she kept sending him each time, she really didn’t mind. Tony kept asking for more pancakes till Rose finally cut him off at four.   
  
As he witnessed their interactions, John found himself studying this family dynamic, and trying to determine the reason for its foundation. It was clear that they were integral to one another—a solid unit not to be broken. And the love amongst them was so apparent, one would have to be blind not to notice. Seeing this made him eager to know more about them.

After breakfast, Martha delegated the kitchen cleaning to Mickey, who after giving her another heavily syrup-laden kiss, complied. Tony took John’s hand, and running, led him to the living room to play with the toys he had left on the floor earlier. Martha and Rose followed them into the living room, both curling up on the sofa. John laughed as the two of them fought over the remote, Rose insisting that “I cooked, I choose,” and Martha countering with “I don’t care, I have the remote.” Rose lunged forward and grabbed at the remote, eliciting a tug of war.

The battle was interrupted by Tony asking, “Rose, can we go to the park?”

Martha used the distraction to her advantage and assumed control of the remote. Frowning, Rose stuck her tongue out at her and then turned to Tony, answering, “Ya mean now?”

Tony turned on the puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Sighing, she said, “Alright. Let’s change and we can go.”

Cheering, Tony turned to John. “You’re coming too, yeah?”

John looked to Rose, waiting for her to say something. However, the look on her face made it clear that she was waiting for _his_ response. Grinning widely, he turned back to Tony and said, “Wouldn’t miss it!”

He saw a small smile play on Rose’s lips at his answer, causing his own smile to widen. Still cheering in delight, Tony ran up the stairs to change, with Rose not too far behind him. 

John turned to Martha. “He’s an amazing kid. You should be proud.”

Martha shook her head in agreement. “He really is, isn’t he? We couldn’t be prouder of him.” She took a pause and then looked more fully at him. “It’s really nice of you to take an interest in 'im. I've never seen 'im take to someone like he has you."

“I’m grateful I met him,” John replied with complete sincerity. 

Martha grinned at him, and turned her attention to the telly just as Rose and Tony came down, dressed and ready to go. Though Tony practically begged, Martha and Mickey chose to stay home and “vegetate,” as they put it. The park was only about a block away, and the three of them enjoyed the leisurely stroll. As soon as the play equipment came into view, Tony broke free from John and Rose's grasp and ran to join the few children that were already there. Still keeping a close eye on Tony, Rose sat in one of the swings and John sat in one next to her.

They both silently swayed back and forth for a moment, before Rose piped up. “What was your favorite thing at the park when you were young?” she asked, looking over at him. 

“I liked the seesaw. Donna and I would slam down as hard as we could and try to make each other fall off. I won most of the time, but then she would smack me afterwards, so it was a rather bittersweet victory,” he laughed, Rose laughing with him. 

“You?” he asked.

A thoughtful, reminiscent look came into her eyes as she replied, “The swings. When I was little, I would tell my dad to push me higher and higher. Told ‘im I wanted to touch the sky. Then this one time, I fell off while he was pushin' me. Got skinned up pretty bad, wouldn’t get on them again. A few weeks later, he took me back to the swings and told me to get back on. I threw a fit. Practically kicking and screaming. Begged ‘im not to make me. He just put me on the swing, and told me to start moving. Didn't want to, but he wouldn't let up. So I started moving back and forth, getting higher. Then he stood in front of me and told me to jump off, that he’d catch me. I was terrified, but I did it anyway. And he caught me. Then he just smiled and told me to never be afraid of fallin', even if it hurts sometimes.”

John listened with rapt attention. He saw her eyes glisten as she recalled the childhood memory, but it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. When she looked back at him, he could tell that the smile that graced her face was forced. It wasn't natural and merely an façade.   
  
_What happened to you?_  
  
John so badly wanted to delve further into her past, to learn all there was to know about her; but he knew that the moment wasn't right.

Instead, he nodded his head and smiled. “Smart man.”

At that statement, she smiled. Faint, but genuine. “Yeah...yeah, he was.”

For the next hour, they talked about random subject, laughing and thoroughly enjoying each other while gently swinging back and forth. Before long, Tony decided he had had enough of the park, and the three of them went back to the house. Once there, Tony played in the backyard, while Mickey showed John the car he was currently restoring. Though Mickey owned an auto shop, his passion was restoring classic cars and made up quite a bit of his business. John was extremely impressed with Mickey's work, his talent evident.  
  
Time continued to pass quickly , and before John knew it, it was 7:00. The four of them insisted he stay for dinner and a movie, saying he had spent all day there and he might as well finish the evening out. As the movie played, Tony snuggled up against John, his Batman blanket wrapped securely around him. Before long, he was out like a light, his head resting on John’s lap. John found himself occasionally stroking the little boy’s head affectionately, Tony’s face mirroring the peace and tranquility that John felt inwardly at that moment. When the movie finished, Martha and Mickey said their goodnights and went upstairs for the night. 

John and Rose sat in silence for a few moments. Now that she was in the security of her home, John decided to ask more about her past. 

“So, how long have you three been raising Tony?” he asked, his voice slightly shaking with nervousness at approaching, what he suspected, was a touchy subject.

Rose kept her face stoic as she looked at him, only the faintest trace of sadness was visible in her eyes. 

“Six years. My parents died a year after he was born. I was nineteen, so was Martha. Micks was twenty. We’re all extremely close. Mickey and I grew up together, and Martha and I are basically sisters. So… after it happened, we decided to raise 'im together. Martha’s mum was already furious that she an’ Mickey had run off and gotten married; so when she heard about our plan, she basically told Martha she was throwin' her life away and wrote her off. Hasn't talked to us since. And Mickey—his gran had passed a few years before my mum and dad. So, we all lost someone, in one way or another. But we have each other, and that's all we really need."

John could hear the strength in her voice start to fade as she finished her story. He wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her, pull her to him, and take that pain, which she was trying so hard to hide, away. In that moment, John understood Jack's words. He _knew_ , with unquestionable certainty, that he had found something more than special—it was a necessity. Even though his brain didn’t have all the answers as to why, there was no denying the feeling was there. He didn’t _want_ to deny it. 

  
  
Clearing her throat, Rose glanced at the time and turned to him. “I should call it a night. I have to open the shop tomorrow.”

John carefully turned and picked up Tony, who nestled into his arms. Following Rose’s lead, he took Tony up to his room and tucked him. In that moment, John felt an unparalleled feeling of belonging and completeness. As he backed towards the door, Rose made her way to the bed, gently stroked Tony’s hair and kissed his forehead, causing a small sigh to escape from the little boy. Rose and John made their way downstairs and Rose opened the door for him. 

He turned to her, smiling warmly. “Thank you for today. It was one of the best times I’ve had in years.”

“Me too. I’m glad you came,” she said quietly, a smile playing on her lips.

John fixed his eyes intently on her, drinking in her presence. He so badly wanted to kiss her, the temptation nearly overwhelming. But as he looked at her, he saw Rose holding back. Her eyes, though filled with warmth and what looked like longing, appeared guarded and unwilling. Though inwardly disappointed, John put on a smile. 

“Goodnight, Rose,” he said and made his way onto the walkway.

“G’night, John.”

He had made it to the end of the walkway, when he heard her call out to him. “Will I, um...will I see you at the shop tomorrow?”

John turned back to look at her, and seeing her waiting with somewhat hopeful eyes, smiled brilliantly. “Count on it.”

Smiling bashfully, Rose closed the door as John made his way home, contemplating what happiness tomorrow could bring. 


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In My Veins (feat. Erin McCarley)--Andrew Belle

Four days was all it took. Four days, and John Noble had arrived at an irrefutable conclusion--he had fallen for Rose Tyler, and fallen hard. An over the moon, no holds barred, free fall. It was both terrifying and utterly exhilarating; and he loved every second of it. Since that Sunday morning, John had continued to venture to the coffee shop, spending as much time there as possible, all in an endeavor to be close to Rose. To see her eyes light up, hear her laugh or even just to hear the sound of her voice was like being on a high. Everything about her was intoxicating; it was as if she was in his veins. 

Despite all of that, there was one thing standing in his way--Rose herself. Granted, she appeared genuinely happy to see him when he came into the shop. And John would bet good money that her eyes lit up when they fixed with his. There were times that he would catch her discretely watching him from the corner of her eye, and what he saw in her eyes made his heart soar. Her eyes were filled with such warmth and tenderness, it was hard to breathe at times. It was undeniable that there was something between them—it was nearly palpable. And that wasn't just his ego talking.   
  
However, there was something else between them—an unknown barrier that Rose had put in place. It was as if they were on opposite sides of a glass partition—visible to each other, yet unable to make contact. The look in her eyes Sunday night had confused him. The longing was evident, smoldering in intensity. Yet, there was no mistaking a strong, forbidding force behind them. They practically cried out, "No. I can't." John wasn’t sure if that second look was meant for him or if it was an internal resolve on her part. Whatever the answer, it was still painful to see.

John was at a lost, and that confusion was made worse by the fact that relationships were never his strongest suit. The last one was a _definite_ testament to that fact—but he thought as little about that phenomenal disaster as humanly possible. It was these events that led John to seek counsel from the last person he ever, _ever_ would have expected—Jack. He was currently in his brother-in-law's spacious office, stretched out the length of the couch, with his arm over his face and waiting for him to return from some afternoon meeting. John wasn’t quite sure how long he had lain there, but it felt like eternity before he heard the door open and Jack mumble something to his assistant before closing the door.

“I just want to make something _abundantly_ clear. What I’m about to do will never—I repeat _never_ —happen again,” John said, still lying on the couch.

“John? First of all, where the heck are you? And second, what on Earth are you talking about?” replied a puzzled Jack.

Propping himself up, John looked up Jack and took a harsh swallow before saying, “I came to…to ask for—God, can’t believe I’m doing this—to ask for your…advice.”

His brow furrowing quizzically, Jack looked at him. “About what? Your book?”

“Actually, about…relationships,” he mumbled.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh outright. “What about them exactly?” he asked, tossing the papers he’d been holding onto his desk and then sitting in the chair across from his brother-in-law.

John laid his head back down, looking at the ceiling as he talked. The ceiling was his friend. The ceiling wasn't judgmental. The ceiling didn't bloody smirk at him, like he was certain Jack was at the moment. “So…you know how I mentioned that I was intrigued by Rose?”

“Yes, I believe that was _your_ choice of words,” Jack said with a smirk. "Some of us had a different take." 

“Weelll…maybe I’m a little bit _more_ than just intrigued,” John admitted hesitantly.

“Define 'a little bit more.'”

“More as in I feel like I’ve touched a live wire every time I see her. Or hear her voice. Or think about her. That’s all I do too—think about her. Every single day. Plus, I may or may not...frequently…uh, dream about her,” John replied, mumbling the last part unsuccessfully.

“Oh? Do tell,” Jack said jokingly—well, _mostly_ joking.

John finally turned to him, giving him a look that was a cross between a glare and exasperation.

Jack allowed one more grin before sobering his expression. “Seriously though, what do you need from me? You love her, go do something about it, ya idiot!”

John shot up straight at an amazingly rapid speed at Jack’s statement. “Whoa! Love? Who said love?! I didn’t say love. I don’t recall hearing that word at all! Where did you get love?” he rambled.

At his denial, Jack gave John an incredulous look that said in no uncertain terms, “You’re an idiot.”

“Ok…," he sighed, "Maybe I’m a _little_ bit in love...a bit!”

At that, the look then morphed into, “Is there even a word for your level of stupidity?”

“Alright," John finally acquiesced, " _A lot_ in love,” he finished, sighing and flopping back onto the couch. 

“There ya go—give the man a medal. So, what exactly do you need from me? I don’t see what the issue is here,” Jack asked, genuinely at a loss.

“I can’t figure her out, Jack. There are times when I catch her looking at me and there’s no denying that something is there. But, then I try to get closer to doing something about it and—BAM!—she puts up this guard. I can’t make out it if it’s _me_ or what in the world is going on," he sighed once again, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know I’m no expert at this sort of thing—case in point, the bloody Yvonne fiasco. Still have nightmares 'bout that one. But with Rose…Jack I want this. I want…no, _need_ her. I’m desperate, which is why I’m here of all places, forgoing all pretenses of dignity and subjecting myself to the risk of eternal mocking and humiliation.”

Jack rolled his eyes at John's ridiculousness. “Well aside from that last little bit of melodramatic crap, I actually understand what you’re sayin'. Ran into somethin' similar with Donna,” Jack sympathized, leaning forward slightly.

John looked over at him, slight confusion evident. “I thought you said you all knew with a few hours you were meant to be, and their were rainbows and fireworks, or whatever it was.”

“No, I said that **_I_** knew after a few hours. Donna on the other hand—well, it required some effort on my part. Not everything that’s worth having comes easy—rarely does actually. Sometimes ya have to fight for what you want.”

John was surprised at the conviction with which Jack uttered that statement. Although, he had to admit that Jack could be quite insightful at times.  
  
“So, what are you saying? That Rose doesn’t feel anything for me? That’s why I have to fight for her?”

Jack shook his head. “No, I don’t know what she feels for you. I never met her, but based on what Donna’s mentioned and now what you’ve told me, it sounds like maybe there’s something goin' on behind the scenes. Without betraying Donna's confidence, I can tell you that with us, it took patience because there were things both of us needed to deal with or had running through our head. Not everything is black and white. There’s always a story behind things,” Jack assured him with the utmost sincerity. He could see how much turmoil John was in, and the feelings he had for Rose were so blatantly apparent. 

“Donna mentioned what?” John said, sitting back up as he honed in on that part of Jack’s statement. 

“What?”

“You said 'based on what Donna’s mentioned'…what’s Donna mentioned? Has she talked to Rose or something? Because if so-...”

“That's what you choose to pay attention to? Seriously, John, calm down," Jack said, halting John's ramble before it went completely out of control. "It was just little things here and there; ask Donna if you want to know specifics. But as far as Rose goes, my advice: Don’t give up. And don’t assume it’s you—find out more about her and maybe you’ll understand what’s behind her keeping you at arm’s length,” Jack said, going back to his desk. “Oh, by the way, Yvonne is here visiting Daddy Dearest, so you might wanna lay low in here for a while.”

Groaning, John laid back down on the sofa and once again, threw his arm over his face.  
  
***  
  
“So...anythin' you wanna talk about?”

Rose looked up at Martha, frowning. “What do ya mean?”

For the first time in a few months, it was just the two of them. Tony was sleeping over at a schoolmate’s and Mickey was over at his friend Jake’s watching a match. Martha and Rose were thankful to finally have time just for them, and decided to make margaritas and watch a chick flick, something they hardly ever got to do with Mickey and Tony around constantly. Martha was also grateful for this alone time because it was the perfect opportunity to address a topic that had been bothering her for several days.

"I mean John. Anythin' there you wanna talk about?”

Rose turned her head away and focused on the telly, not wanting to make eye contact. “Nothin' to talk about really. He’s a great guy. It’s nice knowin' him."

“Rose... Love, I know there’s more to it than just that. Y’know ya can’t hide much from me. Tell me what’s really goin' on,” she said, tugging on Rose's arm.

Rose quickly pulled away from her grasp. “Martha, we're just friends. We have a nice time talking, and he loves spendin' time with Tony. There’s nothing going on. There _won’t_ be anything going on. Even if I wan-...," she trailed off, turning her eyes away, "There's nothin' goin' on, alright?”

Blowing a harsh breath through her nostrils, Martha didn’t bother even attempting to hide her frustration. “That’s complete crap and y'know it! I _know_ you, and I _know_ that you feel somethin' for him—maybe more than just somethin'. And you’d have to be blind not to see that he’s completely mad for you! He looked like he wanted nothin' more than to snog the life outta you on Sunday. And I saw you...you looked like you wanted him to. Even Mickey picked up on it… said that you two were makin’ mooneyes at each other when he walked in to the kitchen.”

That was the push she needed, and Rose got up from the sofa abruptly and started pacing, agitatedly running her hands through her hair. “Martha, just stop it! Alright? Stop it! There’s nothin' there. Nothin' between me and 'im. Okay? Just leave it!”

Martha’s own frustration was escalating. There was no denying that Rose had inherited Jackie Tyler’s stubbornness. And even though Martha had loved Jackie like she was her own mum, this particular trait was starting to piss Martha off at the moment.

“Just because ya say that doesn’t make it true, Rose! Doesn't change how you feel, and it definitely doesn’t make it go away! God," she practically growled, "why are you being so bloody stubborn? What is so wrong with caring 'bout someone other than just us? Why won’t you even think about the fact John cares about you and you about him? That maybe, just maybe you are fallin' for 'im?” she finished, borderline shouting. 

Her pacing immediately halted, and Rose's eyes widened as she stared intently at Martha. Suddenly, her body began to fiercely tremble before her face contorted in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. Sobbing, Rose fell to her knees. In an instant, Martha was at her side, gathering her into her arms and stroking her hair soothingly. Rose buried her face into Martha's chest, tears racking her body. Though sobbing and overwhelmed with emotion, Martha was still able to make out Rose's tearful protest.

“I can’t…I can’t…I just can’t…"


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own–U2

To those who knew Donna Harkness (nee Noble) only in passing, she appeared to be a fierce, no-nonsense type of woman; not one to take anything lying down, and a definite force with which to be reckoned. And to a large extent, that impression was accurate. She was a truly magnificent woman—full of love, passion, and wit. However, even though Donna possessed those attributes, she failed to acknowledge them. In fact, she was never one to think highly of herself, always assuming that she was lacking in comparison to everyone else. It was that lack of confidence which caused her to act abrasive at times; it was her defense mechanism. And when Donna met Jack Harkenss at the yearly gala held by her uncle's firm, that defense mechanism reached new heights.

There was no denying that Donna had been instantly attracted to the gorgeous, dark haired American. But she allowed her inner voice of self-doubt to prevent her from entertaining any ideas. That, and within five minutes of being introduced, Jack had leaned in towards her, and whispered that she had an "impressive keester." Donna had replied by grinding her high heel into his foot, her smile never once faltering. After that less than stellar encounter, she had gone out of her way to steadfastly avoid him, making sure there was ample distance between them at all times. During a lull in the evening, while her family was engaged in various conversation, Donna sat at one of the many tables and watched with envy as the couples on the floor danced. Her morose thoughts were interrupted by the sudden presence of Jack Harkness. Expecting another follow up to his less than charming come-on, she was surprised when he handed her a champagne flute and genuinely apologized. In fact, her jaw practically hit the floor when he then asked her to dance. Donna was at a loss as to why he would _want_ to dance with _her_ when he could have any of the many model types strutting around that evening. But as Jack continued to stand there, his smile brilliant and eyes excitedly hopeful, Donna couldn't help but feel a fluttering of anticipation and excitement within her, and she nodded in acceptance. 

Taking her hand, Jack led her to the dance floor. The band played on, and while they swayed softly to the music, Donna felt something stir deeper within her as Jack continued to hold her tenderly in his arms. Everything around them slowed down, and she had never felt as special as she did in that moment. When the music ended, Jack escorted her back to her seat. Donna was overcome with disappointment, not only at the loss of his touch, but also by the thought of him leaving her to find someone else worth his time. But she was once again surprised when he took the seat next to her, and began animatedly engaging her in conversation, eagerly inquiring about her and her interests. She answered his questions honestly, but of course, used her cutting tongue as often as she saw fit—couldn’t let him get too close, of course. However, Jack didn’t seem affronted by her sporadic curtness; rather, he seemed _more_ inclined to continue their conversation. The night gradually drew to a close, and the two of them parted ways with a simple exchange of 'goodbyes' and nothing more, much to Donna's disappointment.

The next day, however, a gorgeous bouquet of lilies was delivered to her with a note that simply said, “ _Dinner?_ ” Donna would have been lying if she had said she wasn’t ecstatic at his offer, but she was still fearful of being trifled with, and therefore, sent a note back saying, “ _Pull the other one.”_ To her pleasant surprise, Jack wasn’t so easily deterred by her refusal. The day he received her reply, he sent another bouquet—this time much larger, and of roses—and again asked her to dinner. And once again, Donna turned him down. This back and forth continued for two weeks, with Jack's last note saying, _“I’m not giving up, so you might as well say yes.”_ A wide smile on her lips as she read, Donna finally relented and agreed to dinner.  
  
In all honesty, the dinner had been rough at times, but for the most part, it had been incredibly enjoyable. While she had toned down substantially on the sarcasm, Donna still wasted no time in calling him out anytime she felt he was using any artificial charm. After that evening, the two of them began to see each other frequently, though Donna was fearfully reluctant to call it dating. And the more time they spent together, the more their true selves became apparent to each other. Donna came to realize that Jack used his charm, not just because he liked to flirt, but also as a way to hide his fear of inadequacy; much like she used her biting wit and abrasiveness to protect herself from hurt. Once that understanding was reached, their relationship rapidly blossomed, resulting in their engagement and subsequent marriage. There were still occasional moments of self doubt; and when those would resurface, Jack would reassure her that she was what he wanted and she had 'made him a better man.' Those words and his winning smile, never once failed to put her mind at ease. 

Early on in their relationship, they had made it a habit to have lunch together at least twice a week, which was why Donna found herself making her way towards the lift at Torchwood Titles. She had just entered the lift, when she heard a disturbingly familiar feminine voice that affected her like nails on a blackboard.

“Hold the lift!”

Donna pressed the _Close Door_ button frantically, desperate to not be trapped in the lift with the woman. The doors had almost closed, when a well-manicured hand stopped them, effectively halting Donna's getaway. The heavily artificial woman raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, and with a smirk, smoothed her blonde hair and stood beside Donna.

Donna kept her eyes locked forward, merely acknowledging the woman out of obligation.  
  
“Yvonne.”

“Deena.”

“It’s Donna,” she corrected curtly through gritted teeth, knowing the woman had mistaken the name intentionally.

“Oh, that’s right!" Yvonne hollowly chuckled, "Silly me. It’s been forever.” There was a small pause before she turned towards Donna, her critical eye making a head to tail inspection. “Have you lost weight? Your hips don’t look nearly as wide as they used to,” Yvonne inquired with snide sweetness.

“Have ya had more work done? Coz your nose doesn’t look quite as piggish as it used to,” Donna replied without missing a beat. The amount of self-control Donna was displaying was unparalleled. If she could’ve, she would have knocked the woman around by her hair extensions. Unfortunately, that was not an option. Yvonne Hartman was the daughter of the senior editor, Adam Hartman, who was Jack’s superior. 

Yvonne's eyes flashed and she pursed her lips, sharply turning her head forward. Another beat passed before she asked her next question.

“How’s my sweet John?”

Rolling her eyes, Donna irritably replied, “My brother is fine, ta.” A thought crossed her, and smirking, Donna added, “In fact, he’s made a new acquaintance that seems to make him _very_ happy. Happiest I’ve seen him, actually. He's like a whole new man.”  
  
Donna knew she was poking the bear but she didn’t care. She detested the woman and shuddered at memories of her and John together, even if their relationship had been incredibly brief. Donna could practically see her fuming, but before Yvonne could retort, the lift reached Jack’s floor and Donna exited without saying another word. 

Giving a small smile to Anne, Jack's assistant, Donna hurriedly entered his office. On seeing her, Jack cracked a grin and quickly approached her, giving her a thorough snog in welcome. When they finally parted, Donna gave him a huge loving smile, greatly approving of his chose greeting. 

She placed one more quick kiss to his lips before stepping back to look at him. “Ready?” she asked, still smiling. 

“Have one email I need to send and then we can head out. Anything, interesting happen today?”

“Nothing particularly," Donna shrugged, "Rode the lift up with Satan’s mistress. Other than that, pretty uneventful day.”

“Did ya clean up after yourself? Because I really don’t want to have to dispose of a body right before lunch,” he teased laughingly. 

“Oh, shut it!" she mockingly glared as she gave him a playful swat. "I behaved beautifully, thank you. Hurry up and let’s go. I’m starving. Where do you wanna go, by the way?”

Finished with his email, Jack stepped back from his computer, and grabbed his jacket. “Why don’t we go to that coffee shop you like so much? It seems like I’m the only one who hasn’t been there. Trying to hide it from me?” he said with a smile.

“Sorta. I didn’t even want to take John there, but I thought it could do him some good. Which apparently it has on multiple levels." As she said that, Donna turned to him and raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Wait…that’s what this is about, isn’t it? Ya wanna see what’s goin' on, don’t you?!” She was much less surprised than what she was conveying. 

Jack went up to her and put his arms around her waist, smiling. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t you?”

Donna frowned at him, but then quickly smiled, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to the door. “Hurry up. I don’t wanna miss anything good.”

\---p>

Martha couldn’t help but keep looking over at John. Though he was sitting in one of the most comfortable chairs, he was still fidgeting like mad, and was currently on his third latte. Rose couldn't get there soon enough, and Martha knew that was his whole reason for being there. As soon as he'd arrived, John had asked (not so subtly) if she was there, was she coming in, and if so when. Grinning at his eagerness, Martha assured him that Rose would be in within the hour.  
  
John had been semi-patiently waiting for about forty-five minutes, when Donna and an extremely handsome man (who Martha inferred was Jack) came into the shop. Their arrival apparently did not set well with John, because on seeing them, he dramatically threw his head back and groaned. Evidently his desire to see Rose outweighed his discomfort at their arrival, because John made no attempt to leave.  
  
After introductions were made and lunch orders were taken, Jack and Donna walked back over and sat with John. Shortly after Martha had finished preparing and delivering their food, Rose came through the back door that led into the kitchen, carrying several bags of groceries. Martha rushed forward, taking the bags from her. Motioning to the main room with her head, Martha said, “Donna’s here, and she finally brought the elusive Jack. Ya should go say hello.” She decided to leave out the part about John; best she find out about that on her own. 

Leaving the groceries till later, Martha and Rose exited the kitchen. Martha couldn't help but notice the faint blush that appeared on Rose’s cheeks, or the absurd grin that found its way onto John's face when the two of them made eye contact. Based on the small smiles that played on their faces, Jack and Donna noticed it, too. After a few moments of idle conversation, Jack excused himself to go to the loo. Sensing an opportunity, Martha made up a rather poor excuse for her and Donna to leave, saying she had something to show her. It was completely transparent, but it got the job done.  
  
As both of them reached the counter, Donna turned and whispered to Martha. 

“Is anythin' happening?”

Martha turned her head ever so slightly. All she could see was Rose and John talking, exchanging occasional smiles. 

“Not that I can tell.”

“Dumbo needs to make his move. Glaciers move at quicker speeds,” Donna huffed. 

Part of Martha wanted to defend John, knowing that he wasn’t the primary cause of the holdup. But doing so would require more explanation than Martha could give to her, so she let it pass. Just then, Jack came up beside them.

“Anything yet?”

“No, and be quiet! They’ll hear us,” Donna whispered, swatting his arm. 

Jack rolled his eyes at her. “Like they can’t see us huddle over here whispering to each other. Let’s face it—we aren’t that subtle.”

Martha saw movement out of the corner of her eye. “Shh! Act natural!”

Martha began wiping the counter, while Jack and Donna pretended to be determining what pastry to order. Rose came up to them, John directly behind her. 

“Martha, John and I are gonna go pick up Tony, but we were gonna grab some chips beforehand. Ya gonna be ok if I leave a lil earlier?”

“Of course,” she readily assured.  
  
Smiling, Rose went to get her stuff and use the loo, stating that she would be ready to go in a few moments. Exchanging quick goodbyes with her, Donna and Jack excused themselves and went back to their seats. This left John and Martha standing before each other in silence. John smiled at Martha and rocked back slightly on his heels, hands in pockets. Taking advantage of this opportune moment, Martha grabbed his elbow and took him to the side. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

“No," she raised her hand, "What I’m gonna say requires no input from you. I know you’re crazy ‘bout her—I do. And I like you. I think you’re a really great bloke. But know this—you do anything', and I mean absolutely _anythin'_ to hurt her, and I will do anythin' and everythin' possible to make your life as difficult and unpleasant as I can. I mean a slow living hell. And if y'think Donna is a force to be reckoned with, ya haven’t met _me_. Rose practically saved my life, and I love her more than a sister. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. Are we clear?”

John swallowed harshly and merely nodded at her, unsure if it was even safe to do that. Martha’s face softened, and she gave him a warm smile. Rose came out shortly after that, and she and John left the shop. As they watched the two of them leave, Jack, Donna, and Martha couldn't help but grin at each other in expectation. 


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feeling Good–Nina Simone

_This isn’t a date. This is just two mates goin’ for chips. This isn’t a date._  
  
Rose kept silently repeating that mantra over and over in her head as she and John walked towards her favorite chip street vendor. The more time they spent together, the hard it was for Rose to keep John at a distance. Every second she spent with him increased her inner struggle, and Rose could feel her resolve weakening. While she wanted nothing more than to fall headlong into the euphoria being with him would bring, Rose refused to allow herself to fulfill that desire. A war between fear and longing raged within her daily, leaving her emotionally and, at times, physically exhausted. Every day was filled with constant denial about their relationship, about her feelings. Rose wouldn't even allow her subconscious to entertain any inclinations towards John, no matter how he made her feel.

As they arrive at the chip cart, her mobile rang. Seeing it was Martha, Rose stepped aside to answer it. 

“Hey Martha. Everythin' alright?”

_“Yeah, 'cours it is. I just wanted to let ya know that Mick’s gonna pick up Tony.”_

“Why’s he pickin’ ‘im up?” Rose asked, furrowing her brow. She could sense circumstances were being manipulated. She should've known that Martha wouldn't have listened when she told her to leave it alone. 

_“Since when does he need a reason? He said he’d take ‘im to a movie or somethin'. Point is, you two don't have to rush back. Ya can take as much time as ya want. Listen, I gotta go. Some customers just walked in. Love ya.”_

“Martha…,” Rose started, but the called abruptly ended. Rose swore under her breath; she was definitely going to give Martha what for when she got back. John's sudden voice broke her train of thought.

“Everything ok?” John worriedly asked as he came up beside her, two baskets of chips in his hands. 

“Yeah," Rose answered, pushing back her irritation and putting on a smile. "Everythin’s fine. That was Martha. I guess, Mickey's gonna pick up Tony. Somethin' about taking ‘im to a movie or something. Thanks for these," she motioned to the chips, "What do I owe you?” she asked, taking them from him.

“You don’t owe me anything.” At seeing her begin to protest, John smiled and shook his head resolutely, saying, “Seriously, my treat. Since we don’t have to rush, do you want to sit in that little park we passed?”

 _Still not a date, Rose._ “Sure," she agreed, beaming at him. 

Reaching the park, they found an empty bench and sat down side by side, their arms a hair's breadth away from touching. _God, he smells good…really good. And his hair. Wonder what it…_ Rose shook herself out of her reverie, just as John turned to look at her. 

“So... Can I ask you something?” he asked her, his nervousness apparent.

“Sure,” she agreed hesitantly.

“So, uh... Martha said something that made me curious. We were having a…eh…conversation and she said that you saved her life. What did she mean by that?”

Rose’s eyes widened slightly and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Oh. I’m surprised she said anythin' 'bout. I mean it’s not exactly a secret; we just don’t really... well, we don't talk about it.”

John fidgeted as Rose spoke, clearly uncomfortable. Running a nervous hand through his hair, he began to ramble. “I’m sorry. I know it's not my place to ask. I didn’t mean to be intrusive. I can be a bit rude sometimes. Sorta like Donna. Except not ginger. That's me, I guess--rude and not ginger. I just-..."

Rose chuckled at his rushed words, and put her hand on his reassuringly. “No, John, it’s okay. Really. Like I said, it’s not exactly a secret." Rose took a steadying, yet quiet breath before speaking again. "Martha and I were in school together, but weren’t really friends. Actually, to say she hated me would be an huge understatement.”

John raised his eyebrows at that revelation. Knowing their relationship now, he couldn’t imagine that ever being the case.

“I used to, uh... date this bloke named Jimmy Stone. Just for a little while. He was one of those bad boys that teenage girls fall all over. But he was…well, he, uh... he knocked me around quite a bit.”   
  
Rose looked up at John as she felt his hand tense beneath hers. Looking up, she saw his jaw lock, and his eyes turn almost coal black with rage. Rose squeezed his hand, partly to calm him and partly because she appreciated the fact he cared so strongly, though he barely knew the truth.  
  
Clearing her throat and distancing herself from the vivid memories, she continued, “Made excuses for 'im at first, but wasn’t long before I got my head on, and left ‘im. After that, Jimmy set his sights on Martha. Me and Mickey happened to be at the pub they went to for their date. As usual, Jimmy got sloshed and thought she was flirtin’ with Mickey. Which, of course, she wasn't. He dragged her outside and tried to start in on her like he used to with me. But I got to ‘im before he could do anythin'. Found out I have a pretty mean right hook.”

John smiled somewhat proudly at her, but his expression became somber as he said, “I’m sorry you both had to go through that. So sorry."

Rose swallowed, turning her head away as she nodded. “Yeah... But we did, and it’s done. We’re stronger for it, I guess." Awkwardly clearing her throat, she turned back to look at him, this time a smile covering all previous traces of pain. "So…my turn now.”

“What do you mean?” was John’s confused reply. 

“It’s my turn to ask a personal question. Turnabout's fair play,” she teased.

John grinned at her. “Fire away, Rose Tyler.”

She looked at him squarely. “Do you really want to write another novel?”

John mirrored her expression. “You asked me that the other day. Was driving me a little spare thinking about it. What do you mean by that?”

Rose popped another chip into her mouth. “Well…you said Jack insisted you write the first one. Then, you said you wrote the second because the first did good. But, it sounds like you’re just doing it because it’s expected, not because it makes you happy. Maybe that’s why you can’t think of what to write for this one, yeah?”

John turned his head forward, looking pensive. He took a breath. “Weelll, I guess I never thought of it that way.”

As the silence persisted, Rose felt a little uncomfortable at her intrusion, afraid that she had somehow overstepped. John saw her discomfort and gave her a small warm smile, which seemed to put her at ease. But then John started to fidget slightly, and tug on his ear. She could tell he was working up the nerve to ask something, and apparently it was something difficult, if his behavior was any indication. 

“Can I…can I ask what happened to your parents?”

Instantaneously, Rose felt the air leave her lungs. This was one subject she rarely talked about with anyone. And when she did talk, it was only to a limited degree. But looking into John's waiting and concerned eyes, Rose took a breath and decided to try.

“It was a, uh...drunk driver. It was about one in the afternoon but he was still trashed. Never could understand that. Anyway, they, um…they died almost instantly.”   
  
Rose could feel the tears threatening to fall, her eyes burning. She sniffed, trying to bat them back, her hair falling in her face as she did so. Suddenly, John's hand grazed her cheek, lifting her hair back and tucking it behind her ear. The intimate gesture took Rose completely by surprised, and she flitted her eyes up to meet his; and what she saw caused her breath to hitch. His eyes held such concern and… _love_ that she started to struggle for air. Everything was still for a moment. No noise, no movement. Time was suspended. It was just him and her, looking intently at each other. And then…

Her mobile rang; and just like that, the moment was shattered and now awkward. Haphazardly, Rose grabbed for her mobile and answered it.

“Hello? ... No, this isn’t Katie... No worries,” she said hurriedly, and ended the call. Despite her raging nerves, she smiled at him as she explained. “Wrong number. I think we should, um, head back. I don’t wanna leave Martha by herself for too long. It starts to get kinda hectic 'round this time.” 

John did his best to hide his disappointment, and nodded his head as they both stood to up to leave. They walked most of the way in silence, but sneaked occasional glances at each other. In short order they reached the shop. Just before Rose reached for the door, John grabbed her hand to stop her. She turned to look up at him, her insides fluttering uncontrollably after all that had transpired. He looked so nervous that she was afraid of what was coming next, and more importantly, if she could withstand it.

“Rose, uh…my uncle’s firm holds this 'thank you' gala every year for all their clients. It’s this Friday. Would you, uh… would you want to go...with me?” he fumbled about, never letting go of her hand. 

_No. Don’t do it, Rose. Just tell 'im no. NO!_   
  
But when Rose looked into his eyes, all resolve failed. “Yes.”

A huge smile broke out on his face and she couldn’t help but mimic it. “Really?” he inquired with what sounded like a giggle.

She shook her head in affirmation, poking the slightest bit of tongue through her teeth. “Yeah...What time do I need to be ready?”

“I could pick you up around 7:30.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then, John.”

\---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---

“This one?” Rose asked, holding up yet another dress to herself.

Martha stopped reading her magazine, and looked up from her perch on Rose's bed. "Eh," she shrugged, "I still like the black one best, but that one’s good too."

Rose groaned and turned back to the closet, throwing the dress back in. 

“Sooo...," Martha drawled, "Are we gonna agree that this is a date?”

Rose continued to stare at the unchanging wardrobe. “We are agreeing that I am goin' to a party with John. That’s all we are agreeing to.”

“Whatever,” Martha snorted. “I’m not gonna argue this with you tonight. Tomorrow maybe, but not tonight.”

Rose kept irritably pushing hangers back and forth, still indecisive. 

“I’m telling you, pick the black one.”

“Fine. Fine,” Rose grumbled, and grabbed the dress, heading to the loo to change. Said black dress was classically simple. It was right at floor level, with thin straps and a square neckline that was just low enough to be flattering and not look like she was trying to sell something. It was an excellent choice, and once John saw her in it, he'd lose all remaining ability to focus; Martha was certain of it.

John arrived at exactly 7:30, and Mickey let him in. They both went into the living room where Martha was reading and Tony was on the floor playing. Seeing John, Tony got up hurriedly and hugged him. Martha smiled and quickly headed upstairs to get Rose. John and Mickey sat and began chatting away, Tony interrupting frequently to show John something or another. A few moments later, Rose came down and John stopped midsentence, just staring at her, his mouth agape. Her hair was in soft curls that cascaded down her back. Her black dress fit her just so, highlighting all the right features. John's eyes widened as he took in the entire sight. Realizing his mouth was hanging open, he quickly shut it and gulped. Seeing his effected manner, Rose looked down and blushed. 

“Rose! You look like a princess!” Tony said in awe, running up and embracing her tightly.

“Thanks, Tony Bear,” she said, placing a kiss to his blond mop. 

“Y-you look…stunning,” John said, unable to take his eyes off her. 

“Thank you," she replied softly, her cheeks burning. "Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

\---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---

Rose felt a little overwhelmed by the atmosphere and more than a little self-conscious, as they entered the ballroom. Slightly unsure of herself, she turned to look at John and saw him beaming at her. He stuck out his arm for her, and taking it, they went over towards Jack and Donna. Donna eagerly gave Rose a big hug.

“You look absolutely amazing, Rose,” she said, taking a step back to look at her fully.

“I’ll second that,” Jack agreed, giving her a quick hug. When he pulled back from Rose, he leaned into Donna, and whispered, “But you still get my vote." Donna smiled up at him and gave him a quick kiss. 

Rose blushed, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Thank you both. This place is stunning,” she said as she took a look around.

“Oh, Uncle Wilf’s firm goes all out for these things. No expense spared,” John told her. 

“Are your aunt and uncle here?”

“No, they’re traveling. Aunt Harriet threatened him with bodily harm if he didn’t take a holiday, considering he hasn’t taken one in three years,” Donna informed her. 

“I’d say he definitely deserves one then,” Rose smiled.

The four of them made their way to their table, and continued their conversation. The evening progressed and Rose found herself having one of the most enjoyable times ever in her life. John never left her side the whole evening, not once. Rose also couldn't help but notice that he also couldn’t quit looking at her with _that_ look, the look he had given her in the park. It stirred her every time she caught sight of it.  
  
_You need to get it together, Rose. Y'know you can’t let this happen... Nothin' can happen between you two..._

It wasn't long before Rose noticed that a certain blonde had made her way past their table several times within the last hour. It was as if she was keeping tabs on them. Curious, she turned to Donna. “Who is that?” she said as she motioned to the woman in question. Donna turned to where Rose was indicating, and let out a small growl.

“ _That’s_ Yvonne. She and John used to date for a brief time. Very brief, mind you. Thankfully, he came to realize that she was spoiled and a complete cow, and dropped her like a hot potato. She just has a hard time remembering that sometimes. Not used to rejection, that one. Don’t worry about her though. Just have a good time,” she said and gave her a reassuring smile. 

Despite what Donna might have thought, Rose wasn’t worried about some jealous ex-girlfriend. In truth, she was worried about herself. John was getting much too close to her, and she was allowing him. She knew it and she was having such a hard time stopping it; and being here, in this beautiful place, with him looking so utterly incredible and continuing to look at her like he was, and Rose knew her strength was floundering. The man in question turned to her suddenly.

“Would you like to dance? I know you have the moves, I’ve seen them,” John said with a teasing smile, holding out his hand to her. 

Rose groaned as she remembered her awkward spectacle. “Oh, I was hoping you had forgotten about that.”

“Trust me. There’s no way I can forget that,” he said, his voice low and eyes dark. 

Rose felt her cheeks flush, and her breath hitched once again. She stared at his hand, at the decision being placed before her. Slowly, she took his hand and he led her to the dance floor. The band began to play and the woman on stage began to sing _Feeling Good._ Rose felt John's hand move to her lower back and her heart skipped at the contact. The music played on, and they swayed slowly, becoming completely entranced in each other. Without thought, they moved closer in together, though they were practically already entwined. The song reached its crescendo.

_It's a new dawn_

_It's a new day_

_It's a new life_

_It's a new life_

_For me_

_And I'm feeling good_

Rose looked up at John and was suddenly overcome with fear. The ruins of her guard were at her feet. She broke away slowly, her hands the last to leave. 

“I-I, uh…I need a mo',” she muttered, and quickly turned on her heel. She knew he was watching her, could feel his eyes on her. After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the back of the room. It was just then that Yvonne decided to approach her.

“So, you’re John’s new girlfriend?" she smirked, taking a critical eye to her. "I see he’s lowered his standards.”

Rose rolled her eyes at the cattiness. “I’m not his girlfriend so you can quit your pathetic attempt to intimidate me, and get over y'self. Now, if you’ll excuse me…,” she finished and moved to leave. Yvonne attempted to grab her arm, but Rose shook her off easily. Quickly, she retrieved her coat and fled outside. She started down the sidewalk but was stopped by John’s voice.

“Rose! Rose, wait!” he called as he ran up to her. 

She turned towards him, averting her eyes. She couldn't look into them, not when she was so close to breaking completely. “John. I-I’m sorry but I need to go,” she answered hurriedly. She again turned to rush off, but John grabbed her hand, holding it tightly.

“Did Yvonne say something to you?" he inquired somewhat hotly. "Because she-..."

Rose shook her head. “No, she didn’t do anythin'. Ya can practically smell crazy on her. I just…I just need to go.” She tried to leave again, but he held fast to her, tightening his grasp. Rose finally looked up at him, her eyes pleading.

“John, please... let me go.”

He didn’t, but rather walked up to her and cupped her cheek. He looked at her, his eyes dark and raging with emotion. 

“John…please…,” she whispered.   
  
John leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned into the kiss. Rose began to lose herself in the moment, in his embrace, in everything. Just as the kiss began to intensify, she realized what was transpiring, and she jerked away.

She shook her head in denial, in confusion at the whole event. Pulling her coat tighter around her, she tried to slow her breathing. “I-I can’t... I can't do this. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

John ran his hand angrily through his hair and began to pace. He rubbed his face in his hands, clearly frustrated and his irritation building. 

“I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t understand one bloody bit of this! Do you not care about me? Is that what this is? Because if so, you should just tell me now, Rose, instead of leading me on!”

Rose stared at him, his words slapping her in the face. “Y'think I’m leading you on? Really?”

John threw his hands in the air. “What am I supposed to think? You’re hot and cold. For God’s sake, you bloody kiss me and then jerk away! What is going on with you?" He tugged at his hair in anger, continuing to pace. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you _don’t_ feel anything for me,” he said, his frustration and confusion reaching the boiling point. 

“Don’t feel anythin'? That’s the whole reason I’m pushin' away! I want nothin' more than-...," she trailed off, closing her eyes briefly before looking back at him. "I can’t breathe when I’m around you. I can’t get you out of my mind. But I can’t do this. I just _can’t_! I’m sorry but I can’t!” she said, her eyes rimmed with tears.

He threw his arms up again. “Why? Tell me why! Give me one good reason w-..."

“Because I’m afraid!” she shouted and her finally tears gave way. John looked at her, unsure what to do or say. “I’m terrified! Because if I lost you I couldn’t bear it! I’ve already lost two people of the most important people in my life. They didn’t just die in some car wreck. I _watched_ them die. I saw the life fade away from them. I saw everything. I fought to get to them. I fought so hard and I couldn’t-...I couldn’t do anythin'! I can’t take that chance to feel that pain again.”

John approached her slowly, still confused. “So, you’re afraid of me dying? Is that it?”

“I’m afraid of my heart breaking again! Because what I feel for you, it’s so strong that if…if I-I…I don’t wanna deal with this! I can't!” she turned and began to walk off. John rushed forward and grabbed at her arm, but she pulled out of his grasp. Sobbing, she fled, never looking back.   
  
The clouds broke, and the rain began to fall heavily. John could do nothing but watch as her figure faded in the distance.

\---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---xxx---

The phone began to ring. She stirred in bed, not wanting to answer, hoping the annoying sound would just suddenly cease. However, it persisted.

_Whatever bloody idiot is calling this early, better pray that I don’t kill ‘em._

Grabbing the phone, she snapped into the receiver. “Hello? …Yeah, that’s me… _what?!_ I’m sorry c-can ya... can ya say that again?”

The phone suddenly fell to the floor as she let out an anguished cry and began sobbing uncontrollably.

The man beside her awoke with a start. “Babe? Babe, what is it?” He began to panic. Seeing the abandoned phone, he picked it up. “Hello? ...No, this is her husband.”

_”Yes, this is Anna from St. Timothy’s. I’m sorry but there’s been an accident….”_


	13. Chaper Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poison & Wine–Civil Wars

“Rose, this is the fifth message I’ve left. Please... just please call me back!” John ended the call with a weary and frustrated sigh. He had called at least ten times that morning, but each time, the call went straight to her voicemail. It tore at his heart each time he heard her message. Her tone was light, happy, and John could practically hear the smile in her voice. It was a stark contrast to the last impression he had of her. John couldn't rid his mind of the image of Rose, her face contorted in pain and anguish, sobbing as she ran away from him.  
  
Watching her run off, John had been too stunned by all the emotional revelations and heated words exchanged to move into action. A large part of him had wanted to chase after her, but John couldn’t will his feet to move. After staring at the empty horizon for what felt like hours, John had finally returned to the ballroom, completely soaked through. When Donna and Jack saw him, they were shocked by his appearance, immediately questioning him about what had happened and if he had seen Rose anywhere. Anger and confusion took over him and John snapped at them, storming off without an explanation or farewell. When he arrived back at his flat, John warred with himself about what course he should take, whether or not he should attempt to phone her. However, his fear and guilt convinced him to allow them both to sleep off the events of the night.

But now in the clear morning light, John was in active pursuit to rectify the situation, and come to an actual understanding with Rose. Since John's persistent calls and messages had gone unanswered, he decided to go to the coffee shop, knowing that it was almost a certainty that she would be there. However, when he arrived, the shop was closed up. For some reason, this unexplained closure troubled him greatly. This worry pressing on him, John decided to try her at home, even though it would more than likely be extremely uncomfortable. As he drove to her home, John continued to replay the events over and over, desperately thinking of how to rectify the situation. When he arrived at the home and stepped out of the car, he immediately noticed the house was dark, no signs of life at all present. The fear within him intensified.  
  
_Something is wrong._  
  
Though the he was certain no one was home, John walked up the path and knocked several times. As expected, there was no answer. He was just about to get back into his vehicle when he heard a voice call to him.

“Can I help you, dear?”  
  
John turned in the direction of the voice, and saw an elderly woman looking up at him from her flowerbed. 

John crossed over to her and smiled warmly. “Yes, hello, I was looking for Rose. I’ve tried to reach her but I can’t seem to get ahold of her.”

At the mention of Rose's name, the woman’s eyes became troubled, her lips becoming a thin line. She stood up, dusting herself off, and approached him. “Ya wouldn’t be able to reach her, dear. She… well, she’s in hospital. S'not good, I'm afraid.” 

John felt his heart drop. “W-what?” he choked out. 

Her eyes grew soft at seeing his affected manner, but still held their sadness as they glassed over. “I don’t know the details. There was a lotta commotion going on over there early this morning. Charles, that's my husband, well, he went out to see what the fuss was about, seeing as nothing like that ever happens over there. He came back and said that there had been an accident and Mickey and Martha were rushing to the hospital. They didn't say much else," she sniffed, "It's so awful. They're such a lovely family, and Rose is such a wonderful girl. All we can do now is pray for her," she said as a few tears fell.

It became difficult for John to breath, and the world around him stilled. He was desperately trying to process everything that had been said, but it was all a jumbled mess turning over in his mind. Suddenly, a thought struck him. “Tony? What about Tony? Where's he? Does someone have him?” John fired rapidly, anxious about the little boy.

She nodded. “That young man, Jake, took him. He's a good friend of Mickey's. I don’t know if they’ve told the boy yet, but I imagine not. Best not to worry, 'im, I suppose.”

“Do…," John took a ragged and much needed breath, "Do you know what hospital?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He could feel himself becoming frantic.

“St. Timothy’s.”

The words had barely passed her lips before John took off, calling out his thanks to her as he hurried away. 

\---xxx---xxx---xxx---

Mickey blinked his eyes open and took a look around at the unfamiliar surroundings, forgetting where he was for a moment. In a matter of seconds, the events of last night rushed back over him. He had been awakened by the incessant ringing of the phone, but he hadn’t paid any attention to it until he heard Martha’s anguished cry. Her tears had instantly filled him with dread, and he felt his heart stop when the nurse informed him of Rose's accident. Once the call ended, the two of them wasted no time in getting ready to leave, throwing on whatever clothes were within easy reach. Mickey had rung Jake, hurriedly informing him about what had happened, and asking him to care for Tony. Jake readily agreed, and arrived there in record time. Thankfully, Tony had only woken up briefly before promptly falling back to sleep in the back of Jake's car. Once he was settled, they all departed.

When Mickey and Martha reached the hospital, they were directed to the Intensive Care Unit. Martha broke away from Mickey and rushed ahead of him to Rose's room. As she reached the door, Martha saw Rose, battered and connected to several machines; she dropped to her knees in shock and grief and began sobbing. Mickey hurried over, pulling her into his arms, and whispering to her soothingly. Her sobs grew quieter but her body continued to tremble. It was then that they were approached by a middle-aged gentleman with glasses and graying temples. Though his features were kind, they couldn't mask the gravity of the what he was about to tell them.

“I’m Dr. Bradley. I take it you’re Miss Tyler’s family?”

“Ye-,” Mickey began but was immediately cut off by Martha.

“What happened?! Is she gonna be alright?” she cried, her tears gaining strength. 

Mickey could see the man's features tense, and he took a breath to steady himself for what was to come. 

“From what we were told by the medics, she was clipped by a car. The driver told them that she suddenly stepped out into the street, apparently not paying attention. He tried to swerve but still hit her," Dr. Bradley took a breath as he switched gears, "She’s in critical condition right now. One of her ribs punctured her lung, causing it to collapse. We put in a chest tube to help the lung expand back to normal and have her on a respirator. So far, there’s no sign of any internal bleeding. The CT scan does show some swelling, but thankfully no bleed is present. Currently, she’s unresponsive to voice, but her pupils are reactive and she responds to pain, so that’s a good sign. However, her vital signs are unstable. We’ve put a cardiac monitor on her to track her heart rhythm and are checking her vitals every half hour. We’re going to do everything we can for her—I promise you,” he finished and put a comforting hand on Martha’s shoulder, offering her a tight but genuine smile before leaving. Martha shook her head and then buried her face into Mickey’s chest. 

Pulling back, he cradled her face in his hands and looked at her intensely. “We're gonna get through this. She’s strong, y'know that. She's gonna make it. We’re not givin’ up, you understand me?”

Tears were stilling running down her face, and she worried her bottom lip. “But what... what if-..."

Mickey shook his head. “No. Don’t do that! Don’t go down there.”

She nodded and grasped him tightly, almost as if she was fearful of losing him. Entering the room, Martha moved the recliner up against Rose’s bed. She tearfully kissed her forehead, smoothing her matted hair back. Then she took Rose’s hand in hers and curled up in the recliner. After a couple hours, she fell asleep with her hand still clutching Rose’s. Mickey also placed a quick kiss to Rose's forehead before crashing on the small sofa and falling into a fitful sleep.  
  
When he awoke a few hours later, one of the nurses was checking Rose’s blood pressure and heart rate. 

“Is she ok?” he asked groggily, scrubbing his face. 

She turned and gave him a small smile. “Her vitals are on the low edge of normal. But they’ve been steady for the past few hours. She’s hanging on. Would ya like me to get you a pillow or blanket?”

“I’m okay, but if you could get one for my wife, that’d be great.”

She nodded and left, returning a few minutes later with the blanket and pillow. Martha was still sleeping, so Mickey simply draped the blanket over her, gently stroking her hair. She stirred and slowly blinked her eyes open, adjusting them to the harsh fluorescents. Mickey bent down and gave her a soft kiss and she tiredly smiled up at him. 

“Any change?” she asked, looking over at Rose.

Mickey shook his head. “Nurse says she’s stayed the same," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Least she’s not gettin' worse.” 

Martha nodded her head in agreement. Several hours passed. Mickey tried repeatedly to convince Martha to leave for a bit, just to take a moment to herself. Martha steadfastly refused each time, glowering the last time he suggested. 

“I am _not_ leaving her!” she said in a tone that brooked no debate. 

Mickey knew that tone, and knew that there was no way he'd be able to convince her otherwise. Realizing the time, he phoned to check on Tony. Jake assured him that everything was going fine, but that Tony was starting to ask more about what was happening. Mickey sighed, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to delay telling him much longer. He told Jake he would talk it over with Martha and then let him know what they were going to do next. 

As he hung up the phone, he turned to Martha. “We’re gonna have to think of what to tell Tony. Jake says he’s startin’ to ask questions. Wants to know where we're at, why Jake has 'im.”

Martha let out a weary sigh, and shrugged her shoulders. “How do we tell 'im 'bout this? How do we even try to explain? _We_ don’t even know what’s gonna happen."

“I know, babe, but we have t-…”  
  
Mickey stopped midsentence as John walked into the room. He instantly paled, and his eyes widened in alarm as he took in Rose's appearance. He looked completely gutted. Mickey and Martha could both see that John was overcome with emotion, but making a valiant effort to keep himself in check.

“John... What are y'doin' here? How did you even know 'bout this?” Mickey asked, his surprise and confusion evident.  
  
John had to make a concentrated effort to tear his eyes away from Rose and look at Mickey.

His voice was hoarse, thick with restrained emotion. “I-I…uh…I was trying to get ahold of Rose. When I couldn’t reach her by phone, I tried the shop. When I saw it closed, I went to your home and your neighbor told me that Ro-…,” he closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, “…that Rose was in hospital. I left as soon as she told me.”

Mickey remained in his seat, but sent John a warm smile of gratitude. “Thanks for comin’. We really 'preciate it.” 

“Wh-what happened?”  
  
Mickey pulled up a chair for him and they both sat down. 

Martha turned to John, her eyes beginning to glisten. “They said she stepped in front of a car. He tried to swerve, but she still got clipped. They said… they…” Silent tears started to trail down her cheeks, and she grew silent. 

“They said that she’s critical. Her vitals have been low and her lung’s collapsed. There’s no bleedin' and she’s responsive to certain things. But right now…it’s not...not good,” Mickey finished for her. 

Mickey saw John’s eyes glisten with tears, and he sniffed. Mickey knew John was in love with Rose; he and Martha had talked about it several times. And even if he hadn’t known before, seeing John’s reaction now was conformation of the fact. 

John looked at him in earnest. “I’m here for anything you need. Anything at all. You all don’t have to do this by yourselves.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

John moved his chair to the other side of Rose. He took her hand and softly kissed her knuckles. The three of them sat there for a while, the only sounds coming from the monitors attached to Rose. None of them really talked to one another, except for the occasional inquiry; what was there really to say at this time? All of them were too affected to really have any semblance of a conversation. 

With each passing half hour, the expressions and manner of the nurses began to drastically change. They started to come in more often, if that was even possible—they seemed to never leave as it was. The increase in activity and change in manner was not lost on the three of them. 

Finally having had enough of being in ignorance, John stopped one of the nurses before she exited the room and asked her point blank, “What’s going on? Something’s wrong that you’re not telling us about, so out with it.”

She hesitantly looked from him to Martha and Mickey. She looked troubled, and almost unsure of what to say. However, she sighed and said, “Her vital signs are getting lower. She’s not responding to the meds we’ve been givin’ her. Her heart rhythm is becoming abnormal. She’s having what’s called pauses. It’s where the time between heartbeats is longer than usual. We’re having to watch her more closely. We paged Dr. Bradley. He gave us some orders and said he’d be here shortly. That's all I can tell ya at this point.”

The air became still and the silence hung heavy. They were all trying to absorb the news they had just received, and trying to avoid thinking about its implications. John squeezed Rose’s hand, as if trying to impart some of his strength to her. Martha turned her head to the wall, her hand on her mouth, trying to hold back her emotions. Mickey leaned forward in his chair as he mulled over the turn in circumstances. 

Another hour passed—the last hour before all hell broke loose. 

The harsh silence was shattered as the heart monitor began to alarm. They all looked in terror to see a red blinking 45 BPM on the screen. 

Mickey ran to the door, but the staff was already rushing towards the room. Two nurses came in and began assessing Rose, frantically checking her pulse in several places. The number on the screen continued to lower, now at 20 BPM. 

“What’s happenin'? What’s wrong? Tell me what's happenin'!” came Martha’s panicked voice.

They didn’t answer her, but rather addressed each other. 

“I can’t find a pulse on her, can you?”

“No, I can’t feel anything. Start compressions,” she said, then slammed her hand against a blue button above the bed. At that, an alarm sounded through the hall followed by an overhead voice. 

_“Code Blue ICU Bed 4. Code Blue ICU Bed 4._

One of the nurses began compressing Rose’s chest. Martha began shouting at the nurses to tell them what was going on, but no response was given as all attention was directed to Rose. In an instant, the room flooded with medical staff. They pushed Mickey and John out of the way but Martha refused to budge. 

A young woman in pink scrubs turned to her and put her hands on her shoulder, looking at her squarely. “Ma’am, you need to leave now!” 

“NO!! I’m not leaving!” Martha screamed at her, jerking out of the woman's hold. 

The woman turned to John and Mickey. “You need to take her out of here, NOW!” 

John reached for Martha. “C'mon, we need to go!”

She jerked away from him, glaring at him venomously. “Get off me! I’m not goin' anywhere, so shove off!”

“Martha!” Mickey shouted.

“I’m not leavin' her, Mick!” 

Mickey knew that there was no way she'd listen to reason, knew he had to get her out of the room, even if she would hate him for it. He grabbed her by her upper arms and began dragging her out while she screamed and fought against him. John saw Mickey struggle, and he began to help him. 

  
“NOOO!! LEMME GO!! LEMME GO!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, jerking and scratching at the two men. When they finally got her out of the room, Martha fell to the ground and began weeping uncontrollably, anger and pain radiating from her. John fell back into a waiting chair as Mickey dropped down beside Martha and held her tightly as her cries echoed through the hallway. 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Safe and Sound–Madilyn Bailey

_This can’t be happening. It’s not supposed to be like this. I can’t…I can’t lose her. We’re supposed to… No, this is just a bad dream. I'll wake up...I'll wake up..._  
  
Thoughts and images raced through John’s mind as the medical response team fought to bring Rose back to them. Mickey had managed to soothe Martha’s hysteria enough to where the only sign of her anguish was her body shaking from silent sobs as he held her tightly in his arms. Even though they had long since ended, Martha’s screams still resonated in John's ears. He forced his eyes to focus on the couple next to him, and not on the organized frenzy within Rose's room. He couldn’t watch Rose’s body being assaulted by endless compressions. Couldn't watch her head repeatedly loll against her matted hair. Couldn’t watch her—

 _“I watched them die…”_

Recalling Rose’s revelation caused the echoes of Martha’s screams to immediately cease. All John could hear were their last words to each other playing over and over again. He remembered the agony with which she had uttered them—the sorrow etched in her features. John was terrified at the prospect of that being his final moment with her—a moment, not of love or promise, but one of pain, sorrow, and anger. His heart was shattering at the possibility that he just witnessed the woman he loved slip away from him.

John was suddenly pulled from the fearful wanderings of his mind by the appearance of Dr. Bradley at Rose’s doorway. The man’s expression was indecipherable as his gaze traveled between each of them before he began his approach. John had never known such small journey to take such a long time. After what felt like ages, Dr. Bradley was in front of them, yet still remained silent. John and Mickey helped a haggard Martha to her feet, and all of them looked at the doctor in anxious expectation. 

Sighing deeply, he finally spoke. “She made it through. We’re going to run some tests. See if there are any new developments or complications in light of this. She’s still critical. No doubt about that. But, she’s a fighter. She held on,” he said with another heavy sigh of relief. 

As the doctor continued to explain to Mickey and Martha what the next step was in the plan of care, John silently backed away and found the nearest bathroom, locking the door. He braced himself on the sink, taking several ragged breaths. Every emotion bubbled forth, ravaging his body. The onslaught became too much, and he finally snapped. He lashed out at everything in his path—throwing the rubbish bin, punching the hand dryer, anything he could reach. His anger completely spent, John flung himself against the wall and sunk to the floor, silent tears trailing down his face. He sat there for a few moments—void of thought but full of emotions that needed to be released. After several moments, he collected himself and went back towards Rose’s room to find Martha and Mickey. 

The young couple were sitting in the small lobby area that was directly in front of Rose’s room. Martha’s head was on Mickey’s shoulder while his arm remained around her, stroking her arm comfortingly. John sat himself down in one of the chairs directly in front of them. Each one of them looked the epitome of exhaustion.

“Y’okay?” Mickey asked, turning to John.

He let out a heavy sigh and, deciding he didn’t have the strength or desire to deny the truth, said, “No. No, not at all. But then, neither are you two, are you?" Taking another steadying breath, he continued, "Did the doctor say anything important while I was gone?”

Mickey shook his head. “Just explained the few tests they were gonna run. They took her downstairs a few minutes ago. Said she’d be gone for a lil’ while. We…we’re gonna go home while she’s gone. We need to see Tony and tell ‘im what’s happened. Plus, she needs to rest,” he answered, gesturing to a clearly exhausted Martha before looking her in the eyes. “An' I’m not gonna argue this with you. You’re goin’ home and you’re gonna rest. At least for a few hours.” Martha nodded faintly in agreement, clearly struggling to keep her eyes open. Turning his attention back to John, Mickey said, “Ya should get some rest, too.”

John adamantly shook his head. “No. No, I’m staying. I mean, if you need me to stay with Tony or do something then I will. Otherwise, I’m staying here...with Rose". 

With a small smirk upon his lips, Mickey shook his head. “Y'could give Martha's stubbornness a run for its money," his expression became more somber, and he sighed, "No… I understand and it means a lot.”

Slowly lifting her head off of Mickey's shoulder, Martha finally spoke up, though her voice was hoarse from her screams and lack of sleep. “Actually, if ya could watch Tony tomorrow that would be great. Maybe we could do it in shifts? I just…," she sniffled, wiping at her eyes, "I just don’t wanna leave Rose alone, but I don’t wanna leave him alone either, y’know?”

“Absolutely. You just let me know when, and I’ll be there,” John assured them. 

After exchanging numbers, Mickey and Martha left the hospital and John went into Rose’s room to await her return. Pausing at the entryway, he took in the condition of the room, its slight disarray, and had to push aside the images that came rushing at him. Clearing his throat and scrubbing his face, John walked over to the empty recliner and sat down to wait. A very short time later, the transporters wheeled Rose back into the room, settling her bed into place. As soon as she was within his reach, John tightly laced his fingers with hers. Even in such painful circumstances, their hands entwined felt natural and helped to soothe his aching soul as he sat in silent vigil.   
  
However, silence is not always a kind companion, as John soon discovered. It allowed all his disquieting thoughts to relentlessly bombard him. To chastise him for his actions, to play out every possible scenario.   
  
_If only I had… What if I had…? Maybe if I…_  
  
These were the thoughts on his mind as a fitful sleep finally overtook him.

xxxx

The shrill ringing of his mobile woke John from his troubled sleep. Placing a quick kiss to her fingers, he reluctantly let go of Rose’s hand, and stepped outside of the room.

“Hello?” he answered half-asleep. 

_“Hey John,”_ replied an equally tired Mickey. _“Any change?”_

“No. Nothing,” he said and rubbed his eyes, trying to rid the sleep from them. “How's Tony?”

 _“Not great,"_ Mickey wearily sighed. _"We told 'im just the basics. He doesn’t fully understand everythin’, but it still has ‘im pretty closed off. Do y’think you could come over and stay with ‘im so we can stay with Rose for a while? Martha's anxious to get back to her, and maybe ‘im seein’ you will help.”_

“Yeah, I’ll leave now. Be there shortly.”   
  
Hanging up, John went back into the room, and studied Rose's still form. Walking up to her, John brushed her hair back gently, trying to avoid pressing on the multiple cuts present. Then, somewhat hesitantly, he closed his eyes and softly kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered and then quickly left to be with Tony. 

xxxx

“I’m here,” John called out as he entered the unusually quiet house. Under normal circumstances, John would have waited to be let in, but these were by no means normal circumstances. Just as he walked in, Martha came into the entryway. Making a quick study of her person, it was clear that whatever sleep she'd obtained was not particularly refreshing. Though clearly in a haggard state, she gave him a small smile and, to his surprise, hugged him. 

“Thank you,” Martha said softly, stepping back to meet John's surprised gaze. Sighing, she pulled her braided strands into a loose ponytail before wiping her face. “It’s...it’s just that we’ve been doin' things 'just us' for so long. We don’t really know any other way. But, you being there yesterday, staying with Rose, coming here now...it just…I can’t tell you how grateful we are,” she finished, fresh tears rimming her eyes. 

Feeling himself starting to be overcome with emotion again, John cleared his throat to help keep himself in check. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m where I want to be, and you’ll always have my help. No matter what,” he warmly assured her, giving her a brief hug. Looking around and noticing someone was absent, he asked, “Where’s Tony?”

Martha looked upwards in the direction of the stairs, her eyes becoming troubled as she returned her gaze to John. “He’s in his room. Ya can go up, of course.”   
  
Just as John turned to go, Mickey came down the stairs. They briefly exchanged greetings before Martha and Mickey left for the hospital. John made his way up the stairs to Tony’s room and couldn't help but notice that it was uncommonly silent. On reaching the top of the stairs, he saw that the door was fully open, and Tony was on the floor looking absentmindedly at various books. On hearing John’s approach, the little boy looked up at him; however, for the first time since their meeting, Tony made no attempt to greet John. Rather, he turned his saddened eyes downward and continued to silently turn the pages. Unsure of how to proceed, John took a seat on the floor next to Tony.

“Watcha reading?”

“A book,” Tony said without looking up, his voice small. 

Seeing the normally exuberant little boy filled with such sadness broke John's heart. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. 

“Can I read with you?”

The only response Tony offered was to move the book so that it was between him and John. That was how most of the morning passed--in silence, with them either looking through books or another low-key activity. When it was time for lunch, they journeyed downstairs, and John put in a movie for Tony while he prepared their meal.   
  
As he entered the kitchen, John was hit with the recollection of that perfect Sunday morning, and for one minute he could have sworn Rose was in front of him, gently swaying to the melody of her own humming. The moment faded as quickly as it came, and he quickly returned to making their lunch. John took the food into the living room and sat with Tony on the floor. A few more moments of silence passed, when suddenly Tony turned his sad and frightened eyes to John and spoke.

“Rose is gonna die like my mum and dad, isn’t she?”

John was taken aback by the boy’s candor, and his jaw slacked in surprise. However, before he could reply, Tony continued, “I heard Aunt Martha and Uncle Mickey talkin’ last night. They didn’t know I was listenin’ to 'em. I...I didn't hear everythin', but I heard ‘em say she almost died.”

Tears pricked the back of his eyes, and John pulled the little boy into his arms, hugging him tightly against his chest. “Your sister is, without a doubt, the strongest person I have ever known. She loves you all so much and I know she’s fighting to get back to you.”

“Ya think?” Tony sniffled, looking up at his friend with hopeful and questioning eyes.

“I know it,” John affirmed, smiling and kissing the little boy's crown.

A beat passed before Tony nestled further into the comforting embrace. "Love ya, John." 

A wealth of emotion rushed over John, and he instantly felt hot tears behind his eyes. “Love you too, Tony."

After that interchange, Tony became less detached and began to act more like his normal self, though still reserved. When Mickey and Martha returned that evening, John made quick goodbyes to them all, eager to return to Rose. As he was driving back to her, his mobile rang. 

“Hello?”

_“Why didn’t you tell me about what happened to Rose?”_

“Because I was rather preoccupied with more important things,” John replied in frustration.

_“John…”_

He cut her off. “Donna, I love you, but I’m _really_ not in the mood to be read the riot act. So if you have something other than that to say, then I’ll hear it; but if not, then I need to go.”

There was a brief pause, before she asked gently, _“Do you need anythin'? Anythin' at all?”_

“No," he sighed softly, "but thanks. I just need to get to the hospital. I’ll feel better when I’m with her.”

_“Call me later, yeah? Let us know how she is, how you are. “_

“I will. I promise.”

_“I love you, y'know that?”_

John smiled. “I love you too. Call you later.”

xxxx

Not much had changed in Rose's condition since his departure that morning. John was comforted to find out that her vitals were slightly stronger than earlier and that her color was starting to return. Entering her room, he took his post at her side, instinctively taking her hand, ghosting his lips across her knuckles. Several hours passed in familiar, yet painful silence. He missed hearing her voice, missed talking to her. The persistent silence finally became too much for John to endure.

“I don’t know what to say. Imagine that," he scoffed. "Me not knowing what to say. Right about now, you’d have some cheeky comeback. I’d pretend to be offended but you’d know better than to believe it. You’d probably give me one of those smiles. You know, the one where you poke your tongue out just enough to make my head spin. I never got to tell you that, did I? That I’m completely mad about you. I mean completely gone. No chance of going back. That I want you with me more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. That…that I feel a purpose when I’m with you.”   
  
His jaw stiffened with his next statement. “No. Instead what I did was yell at you. Accuse you of toying with me. I hurt you. And I-I…I did _this_ to you. I did. I should've gone after you. Should’ve never have let you run away. But I did. I just let you go. I saw you were in pain...pain which I caused. But I just stood there watching you, too much of a bloody idiot to know what to do.”   
  
Tears began to tighten his throat, and burn his eyes. “And now? Now I’m terrified. Terrified that I’ll never see your eyes light up again. That I’ll never hear your voice...hear your laugh. I’d even relive that first day, where you practically throttled me, over and over if it meant that I’d get to be with you again.   
  
"Please, Rose…please, don’t leave. Don’t leave me. I-I…I need you. I do. I know I sound completely mental, but I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I’m begging you...please,” he closed his eyes and rested his forehead on her temple, “Please, come back to me,” he whispered in her ear.

John laid his head on the bed as silent sobs claimed him. Yet, in an instant, his head jerked upwards, looking at Rose's face before looking down at her hand. The hand he had taken to pull her out of a raging cyclist. The hand he had taken as he kissed her. The hand to which he now clung.  
  
John was utterly fixated on that hand. Because now…right, now that hand was tightening around his own.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold Italics are Rose's thoughts. Plain Italics are Rose's writing.
> 
> Everything–Lifehouse

**_Who is that? Someone’s next to me—I can feel it. I can hear ‘im. Who-...wait, I…I know that voice. John...? Why is he here? Wait... This isn't my room... Where am I? An' why's it so dark? Wait...he’s sayin' somethin'. Why does he sound so far away? Oh, God...something's not right...what’s goin’ on?_ **

“Please, Rose…please, don’t leave. Don’t leave me. I-I…I need you. I do. I know I sound completely mental, but I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I’m begging you...please…please come back to me.” 

**_Leave? What do ya mean? I’m not leaving you. I’m right here. Oh John...ya sound so…so broken. An' you...you’re cryin'. Why are you cryin'? Please don't. I'm still here. I’m holding your hand—see?_ **

“Ro-Rose? Rose. Love, can you hear me? I know I’ve barely slept the past two days, but I know I didn't...I didn't just imagine that. I felt you squeeze my hand.”

**_What are you on about? I know I squeezed your hand, silly. And why wouldn’t I be able to hear you? You’re not makin’ sense, John._ **

“Love, open your eyes. C’mon. I know you're there, I know you can hear me. Please, just open your eyes, Rose!”

 ** _Open my eyes? Is that why it’s so dark? Oh…Lord... it’s so, so bright. And blurry. Wait…everythin's startin' to come into focus. I'm...oh God…this is a hospital! John, why'm I in hospital? My throat feels strange. W-what’s in my throat? I can’t talk! John! Oh…God...everythin' hurts...why's it hurt so much? What’s goin’ on?! John?!_**

“Nurse?! Nurse, you need to get in here now! Rose, love, you need to calm down! Everything is alright. I promise. I’m right here and I’m not leaving you! Not ever. Just calm down, love.”

**_You, um...ya keep calling me 'love'...Why woul-...John…y'look so sad. Please...please, don't cry...it hurts me to see it..._ **

xxxx

The immensity of Rose's pain was nearly overwhelming. Every part of her body was in agony, nothing was unaffected. Despite that, seeing the few tears trailing down John's face spurred her to action. Squeezing her eyes shut as she battled through the pain, Rose lifted her hand and cupped his cheek.  
  
As her thumb gently brushed away his tears, John placed his own hand over hers, desperately seeking her touch. At that gesture, Rose felt a different sort of sensation surge through her body, almost mirroring the one she had felt during their kiss.  
  
About that time, a petite, portly scrub-clad woman hurried into the room, her eyes widening in shock on seeing her patient suddenly conscious.

“Oh, my Lord! You...you’re awake!” She whirled her head around, and shouted into the hall. “Deirdre, page Dr. Bradley. Miss Tyler’s awake!” Hurriedly walking up to Rose's bed, she began, “I’m Lena, dear, your nurse. I know this must be a bit overwhelmin' for ya, but it's important that y'try to keep y'self calm, alright? Now the reason ya can't talk is 'cause ya got a tube in your throat. You weren't able to breathe on your own, so we had to had to intubate ya. So when I ask ya questions, just nod your head yes or no, alright, dearie?”

Rose nodded in understanding, eliciting a smile from the motherly nurse. 

“Off to a good start already. Do ya remember what 'appened to put ya here?”

Rose’s eyes closed and her forehead wrinkled in concentration. Flashes of images and emotions overtook her as she attempted to recall the events that led her being here. As she pushed her mind to recall the event, the monitors began to alarm, and Rose started to tremble as her body reacted to the jumbled and painful memories.  
  
"Rose...," John started, his voice full of fearful concern.

The nurse’s tone became urgent yet calm. “Miss Tyler—Rose, ya need to calm down, dear. Don't try an' think 'bout it anymore. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I was just tryin' to establish a little bit of a baseline. Try an' relax and not focus on what happened right now, alright?” Lena said, smiling and patting Rose's hand. 

John clutched Rose’s hand and stroked her forehead lovingly, still cautious of the bruises and cuts that marred her skin. She turned to him, seeking the comforting image of his face, tears streaking her cheeks at the rush of pain and fear she had just experienced. He gave her small loving smile, and Rose could clearly see the concern in his eyes, the protectiveness. 

Discretely smiling at their interchange, Lena quietly went to the foot of the bed and slightly pulled back the covers. 

“Can ya feel this, sweetie?” she asked as she firmly stroked the soles of Rose’s feet.

Immediately, her toes flexed and she grimaced at the slight discomfort. Giving a brief nod of affirmation, Rose saw Lena's shoulders relax in relief.

“Are ya in any pain?”

Now that her mind was not preoccupied with John or Lena's actions, Rose once again became aware of her physical agony. Tearfully, she nodded her head once more. 

“Right, then," the nurse acknowledged, patting her hand, "I’ll go get ya somethin' then. Back in a shake,” she smiled and scurried out of the room. 

Now that they were alone, an awkward silence began to fill the room, only the sounds from the medical equipment offering a distraction. Nervously clearing his throat, John squeezed Rose's hand.  
  
“I’ll call Mickey and Martha. Need to let them know what’s happening,” he said, standing to leave the room. However, Rose held a firm grasp on his hand, preventing him from leaving. 

**_Don’t leave._ **

John looked down at their joined hands and then turned his warm gaze towards her. “I’ll only be a moment. Promise,” he assured her as he tried to leave again. But, Rose remained steadfast, tightening her grip at his second attempt. 

**_Please…don't...don’t leave. Stay with me. I need you here._ **

A warm feeling filled John's heart at her refusal to relinquish her hold. Understanding her intention, he sat back down just as Lena returned and began administering pain medication through Rose’s IV. 

“Could you please call Rose’s family so I can stay with her?”

“Oh, of course! We were just getting ready to do that anyway. Now Miss Rose, that should start to kick in in about fifteen minutes.” Patting her hand, Lena smiled affectionately at Rose before she turned her attention back to John, her expression suddenly hardening. “Now," she pointed at him, "keep her calm. Her body is still recoverin' and she doesn’t need any extra anxiety or stress from the likes of you. Hear me? Keep. Her. Calm,” she instructed, and left the room. 

After nodding in agreement and watching the woman walk away, John looked back at Rose, appearing slightly uncertain of himself and tugged on his ear.

**_He’s nervous…he’s doin' that thing with his ear. Why's he so nervous?_ **

Rose gave his hand another squeeze, trying to put him at ease. John smiled at that, and then, lifting her hand, tenderly kissed her knuckles, his gaze never once leaving hers. 

“You...you had me so scared, Rose. I-I thought…I thought I was going to lose you.”

**_Please don’t say things like that…it frightens me._ **

Almost as if he'd heard her thoughts, John didn’t say anything else for a while. Despite what she had earlier wished, his silence almost unnerved Rose more than suddenly discovering herself in hospital. From the first time she had met him, John had never been lacking for words. But now he was unnaturally quiet, and Rose could barely stand it.  
  
She lifted her thumb and index finger and mimed writing, eager to communicate with him in some way. 

“What?" John furrowed his brow before his eyes widened with realization. "Oh! Writing? Oh, that’s brilliant.”  
  
He looked around the room and quickly found a small tablet and pen, promptly handing them to her. 

_What happened?_

On reading her question, John's eyes became exceedingly troubled and began flitting back and forth. “Rose, I don’t think it’s best to talk about that now. At least, not until you’re a little better. You heard the nurse—you need to keep calm.”

 _You look tired. Have you slept?_ she asked with a worried expression.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m alright.”

_That’s not what I asked. Be honest with me, please._

Roughly running a hand through his hair, he sighed before reluctantly responding. “I’ve slept some. These chairs aren’t exactly comfy. But I’m fine, Rose. Stop worrying about me.”

 _I care about you too much not to worry._ She was surprised by her boldness. Though it was by no means some great declaration, it was an unusual moment of unreservedness. That openness didn’t go unnoticed by John who, on reading her words, caressed her forehead and ran his fingertips faintly through her hair.

The tender moment was broken at the sudden arrival of Dr. Bradley. Halfway through his examination, Mickey and Martha rushed into the room. On finally seeing her sister awake, Martha began sobbing with tears of relief with Mickey also overwhelmed by the long hoped for moment.  
  
After thoroughly examining Rose, the three of them asked the doctor every question that came to mind, all of which he answered kindly and patiently. Through it all, Rose never once let go of John’s hand. In fact, every time he moved, even if minutely, her grip tightened. It was as if she was afraid he would disappear if they broke contact. After all questions had been exhausted, Dr. Bradley excused himself, but not before stating that if Rose remained stable throughout the night, they would be able to remove her ET tube in the morning.

The three expressed their thanks, and as soon as the man was gone, Martha embraced Rose gently and Mickey kissed her cheek, both taking seats near her. Rose reached for her pen and paper. 

_How's Tony? Who has him?_

“Don’t worry. Jake is with ‘im. That’s why it took us a bit longer to get here. Had to get ahold of ‘im. Tony is...well, he's doin'…alright, for the most part. He’s had a hard time with all this. Scared, y'know? He’s doin' better than he was at first. Started talkin’ more after John watched him yesterday,” Mickey informed her.

Rose turned her gaze to John, her eyes smiling at him. _Thank you._  
  
"Of course," he smiled at her. 

“Do ya want us to bring Tony to see you?" Martha asked. 

Rose shook her head resolutely. _No. Don't want him see me like this. Will call him after this thing is out of my throat._

“Good,” Martha agreed. “I don’t think he woulda handled it too well.”

_You taking care of yourselves? Don’t lie to me!_

Mickey snorted at that last statement, but answered her gently. “We’re fine. Doin' better now that you’re awake. We just want you home.”

_What happened to me?_

The look that passed between the three did not go unnoticed by Rose. She also saw John barely shake his head and mouth 'no' at Mickey and Martha's questioning gazes.

Sighing wearily, Martha leaned over and softly kissed Rose's forehead. “That’s not important right now, love. What’s important is that you’re back with us and you’re gettin' better. Everythin' else can wait.”

**_What in God's name bloody happened to me? Why won’t anyone just bloody answer me? You’re all gonna get it when this stupid thing is out._ **

Rose wished she could write all the furious thoughts that were rushing through her mind, but her eyes were getting heavy with sleep, no matter how hard she fought its approach. She couldn't help but be afraid of the darkness—afraid that, if she closed her eyes, it would claim her permanently. 

They all saw her fighting to stay awake. 

“You should rest. A lot’s happened today,” John said as he squeezed her hand. 

Rose shook her head. _Don’t want to._

“You may not _want_ to, but you _need_ to, love,” Martha admonished her. 

_Don’t want to be alone._

“You nutter! We haven’t let you be alone since this happened and we aren’t 'bout to start now. I’m stayin’ with you tonight,” Martha assured her.

Rose nodded her head in an effort to show her acceptance of the situation. 

“I should probably go now. Let you all rest,” John said, standing reluctantly. Rose tugged gently on his hand.

 _Will you be back?_ She looked up at him with childlike eyes, a trace of fear lining her whiskey orbs.

Smiling at her, John bent down and kissed her forehead. As his lips touched her skin, the monitor started beeping, alerting them to her increased heart rate. Hearing the alarm, John couldn't help but grin and chuckle softly. 

“Always,” he promised, giving her a look of such intense love that Rose was actually grateful for the tube helping her breathe. Giving her hand a finally squeeze, John left them room with Mickey following behind him. 

Moving the recliner flush against Rose's bed, she clasped her sister's hand, and before long, both women were fast asleep. 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fix You–Coldplay

**_I...I’m awake…Oh, thank God. Never thought there’d be a day when I actually didn’t want to sleep._ **

Blinking and adjusting her eyes to the light, Rose turned her head, looking for Martha, and saw her asleep in the recliner next the bed—her body curled in an odd and clearly uncomfortable position. It hurt Rose to contemplate what they had all gone through since she’d been in hospital. Yet at the same time, Rose was frustrated that they wouldn’t tell her what had happened. Clearly, it was something traumatic. Her body had reacted almost violently when she had tried to recall the event, and the emotional pain she had felt was nearly as strong as the physical.   
  
But when she had turned to John and saw his face, felt her hand within his, she had never felt so safe, so protected. It was one of the reasons why she clung on to him as if her life depended on it. There was another reason, lingering just below the surface, demanding acknowledgement. But Rose wasn't going to give it the satisfaction, not now...maybe not ever.

Finally, Martha stirred and rapidly blinked her eyes open, adjusting her eyes to the harsh light as well. On seeing Rose wide awake, she gave a sleepy smile as she stretched out her cramped limbs. Smiling in return, Rose grabbed her pen and paper.

_Morning sleepyhead. Don’t you look gorgeous._

Martha rolled her eyes and gave her arm a gentle shove. “Look who’s talkin’. You’re takin’ bedhead to whole new levels. An' seriously, a shower wouldn't kill ya."

_Shut up._

“You feelin’ better today? Do ya need anythin' for pain?”

_I’m okay right now. Wish I could remember what happened._

Fidgeting uneasily in the recliner, Martha flitted her eyes away briefly, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “No need to rush it. It’s not what’s important right now.”

**_I really wish there was a way to tell off someone through paper...honestly loses its effect this way._ **

_It’s important to ME, Mar! I want to bloody know. WHY won’t you tell me?!_  
  
As Rose scribbled furiously, the beeping of the monitors began to increase, signaling the rapid increase in her heart rate. 

Furrowing her brow in frustration, Martha angrily pointed to the flashing, alarming monitors. “Y’see that? _That’s_ why we’re not saying anythin’. Because mentionin’ it makes your body freak out and we aren’t gonna risk..." Martha closed her eyes, and released a weary sigh. "We aren’t gonna do anythin’ to make things worse.”

Rose turned her head away and her eyes became glassy, entirely frustrated with the situation. 

**_Why can’t anythin' ever just be simple? I just wanna know..._ **

Feeling a hand lay overtop of hers, Rose turned back around and met Martha's troubled gaze. “Rose, what happened... It nearly broke me. There aren’t enough words to describe how it made us feel—how we still feel. It’s not that we _won’t_ tell you, it’s just that right now isn’t the best time to do it. And the last thing I wanna do is fight with you 'bout it, especially through paper. I mean, if you wanna yell at me, at least wait till that stupid thing is gone and we can properly have it out, yeah?” she said with a small teasing smile. 

A stray tear traveled down Rose's cheek. _Sorry. Just frustrated._

Martha smiled and gave Rose's hand a small squeeze. “I know...it’ll get better.” That assurance given, Martha's eyes suddenly began to twinkle with mischief. “Soooo...," she drawled, "since you can’t argue with me, I think that now is the perfect time to 'discuss' a certain someone.” 

Rose's eyes widened in understanding and she began fiercely scribbling again. _Seriously? I’m hooked up like a telly and you wanna talk about this? 'Specially since there's nothing to talk about..._

A wicked grin broke out on Martha's face. “Oh, yes there is. An' _I’m_ gonna talk. You? You’re gonna listen,” she finished, snatching the pad from Rose's grasp.

**_Lovely. You’re torturing a girl in hospital with a tube in her throat and wires from every bloody limb. What are ya gonna do next—steal some old person’s wheelchair?_ **

“You shoulda seen ‘im Rose. He looked like his heart had been yanked out. We didn’t even tell ‘im about what happened. He just showed up. He’d gone to the shop and house lookin’ for you and Mrs. Anders told ‘im what had happened. He was devastated when he saw you. Completely gutted. Refused to leave. The only time he wasn’t here was when he stayed with Tony. He’s not goin’ anywhere, y’know. He’s completely and totally mad for you. So…that being said, you need to think, I mean honestly think 'bout things. 'Cause I saw how you were yesterday when he was here. Ya never let go of his hand, and then add in the fact your heart rate skyrocketed when he kissed your head...well, I think y’know where I’m goin’ with this.”

Rose’s cheeks reddened at the memory. Her eyes flickered away, and she suddenly caught sight of John approaching the doorway, her cheeks then becoming a darker shade of crimson. 

Martha turned to where Rose's gaze had drifted, and she smiled. “Speak of the Devil,” she mumbled.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), John heard her and, giving a confused look, asked, “What?”

Martha waved her hand, brushing off the subject. “Oh, nothin'. Just tellin’ her how incredible you’ve been through all this.”

John’s ears pinked just slightly at the compliment and the accompanying look Rose unknowingly gave him. Sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck and turned his gaze downward. “It wasn’t anything. I told you I was here for you all.”

Rose mimed writing and Martha grabbed the requested items. “Here it is, Rose. Someone musta moved it,” she said with a smirk, handing her the notepad. 

Rose gave Martha her best attempt at looking cross, but thanks to the ET tube, most of the intended effect was lost. 

_Hello._

“Hello,” John returned as he gave her one of those smiles that made her insides melt. “You sleep well?”

She faintly nodded. _You?_

“Mostly. Donna phoned. She and Jack said that they are thinking of you and whenever you’re up for visitors, they want to come see you.”

_Tell them thanks._

Suddenly a thought came to Rose and she turned to Martha, wide-eyed. _Who’s taking care of the shop?_

“Calleigh is helping out more now that her exams are over and Gwen said she could cover a few days a week while Charlie's in school.”

_Don't let Calleigh bake anything. I love her but last time she mixed up sugar and salt._

“I know. I ate that thing she called a cake, remember? Calleigh’s stickin’ to the drinks. Stop worrying! I’m starting to wonder whether or not we should take that tube out. The paper slows you down a bit. If we take that tube out, you might start rambling as fast as ‘im,” Martha said, nodding towards John.

“Oi! I’m not that bad!” he grumbled. 

Martha and Rose both whipped their heads toward him at that statement. 

“Alright, fine. Maybe a little,” he relented reluctantly.

_Understatement of the year, that._

“Watch it, Tyler," he teasingly rebuked. "If I didn’t want to hear your voice so badly, I’d be inclined to agree with Martha.”   
  
John was so caught up in teasing Rose, that he didn’t realize the frank openness of what he had just said. It wasn’t until Rose began to blush and Martha tried to suppress a knowing smirk, that John realized he had forgotten once again to use a filter on his mouth. 

“How are ya this mornin’, Miss Tyler?” asked the young nurse who had suddenly appeared in the room. 

John sighed, visibly relieved that attention had been diverted from him. 

_Fine thanks. Just call me Rose._

“Sounds lovely, Rose. I’m Rhiannon. I’ve taken care of ya before, but ya weren’t awake yet. Anyway...what says you to takin’ out that pesky tube so we can meet properly?” 

_Let’s do it._

“Right, then. Dr. Bradley is on the floor and he should be in shortly. Once he’s ready, he’ll take out the tube and you’ll be one step closer to goin’ home. Now, do ya need anythin’ for pain?” 

Rose shook her head in reply. 

“Okay, then, I’ll let ya be for now. If ya need anythin’ press your call button.” With one last smile, Rhiannon left the room.

The three of them passed some time chatting about various things—Mickey’s newest restoration, Tony, Jack’s upcoming promotion, and so on. 

It wasn’t too long before Dr. Bradley finally came into the room. 

He gave Rose a warm smile as he said, “You seem to be progressing very well, Rose. Remarkably, actually. The CT scan shows the swelling is decreasing and your chest x-ray shows your lung is almost fully expanded. Hopefully, we should be able to remove your chest tube in a day or two. But for now, let’s start by taking out that ET tube. It’s very simple. I’m going to deflate the balloon holding it in place and then we will just simply pull it out. Nothing fancy. Ready?”

Eagerly Rose nodded.

“Alright. Here we go.”   
  
Within moments, the tube was out. Adjusting to the tubes sudden absence, Rose began to cough and Dr. Bradley placed the nasal cannula in her nose. “Now, this is just to help you for a little while. If you feel you are doing fine without the oxygen, you can take it off, but keep it close by. We’ll continue to monitor everything. You’re doing incredibly well, Rose. You’re _very_ lucky.” After a more few minutes and explanations, Dr. Bradley left to attend to his other duties.

“Can I 'ave some water?” Rose asked, her voice scratchy and weak.

“Sure, love, I’ll go get some,” Martha said and quickly left the room, leaving Rose and John in the room. Alone. 

John moved his chair closer to the bed and did what was second nature—he took Rose's hand and laced his fingers with hers. She looked down at their hands.

**_Oh, boy…_ **

He let out a shaky breath. “So…”

She gave a weak chuckle. “Never known ya to be at a loss for words.”

Smiling somewhat bashfully at her, John shrugged. “It’s been known to happen, given the right circumstances. Seems to be happening quite often...around you.”

Rose blushed and diverted her gaze before speaking. 

“Thank you, John...for everythin'. For helpin’ Mickey and Martha, stayin' with Tony. Ya didn’t have to do any of this. I know ya must have better or more important things to-...”

“Nothing is more important than you, Rose. Nothing,” he cut her off, shaking his head vehemently. His statement was firm but not unkind. It merely conveyed an absolute truth that was not to be argued. 

**_What am I gonna do? He's makin' this too difficult. I dunno if I can fight this much longer..._ **

“Ya don’t have to say that,” she said softly, still having trouble meeting his gaze.

John looked at her intensely, his eyes filled with unyielding warmth and love. “I said it because I meant it...I do mean it. Always.” 

Rose’s breath hitched slightly—and it wasn’t just at the look he gave her. It was at the complete and utter honesty of his words. There was no denying his meaning, and the depth of what he had just conveyed to her was overwhelming. She yearned for it, yet feared its intensity. 

“Here you go, Ro-...," Martha stopped midsentence as she came in and the intensity of the situation hit her full force. “Um, y’know what? I think that this water is…,” she took a sip, “Yep, nowhere near cold enough. Gotta fix that,” she said and quickly made an exit. 

**_Wow...you REALLY need to work on subtlety._ **

Martha's sudden appearance threw him off kilter, and John took a moment to gather his composure. Clearing his throat, he started, “Rose...that night...I was a-...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst. It was wrong of me and if…maybe if I hadn’t been so bloody daft, I could’ve…”

Rose's forehead creased in confusion and concern about his implications. “Coulda what?”

Guilt and shame filled him, and he averted his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe I could have prevented... this.” 

Lifting her free hand, Rose turned his face to meet hers. There was such unfathomable sadness in his chocolate eyes. “Hey...I dunno what happened...well, not yet, anyways. But what I do know is this: you did _not_ do this—whatever it was—to me. Don’t go blamin’ yourself for somethin’ you had no part in!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” John said, unwilling to let go of his self-assumed blame. 

Rose looked at him squarely. “I do."

Unbeknownst to the two of them, Martha slowly and quietly made her way to the door, peeking in and eagerly awaiting what she knew was bubbling just below the surface. _C’mon, Rose...you can do this. Just take a chance..._

A shaky breath broke forth as her mind raged.

**_What would happen if I quit fighting...if I just let go..._ **

“John...that night, when you said y'thought I was... leadin' ya on...” John made a move to interrupt her but she stopped him, “No, lemme finish. When ya said I was leadin' you on, I was...it made me ill 'cause I could see I had hurt you—because that wasn’t what I was trying to do at all. Because...”

Martha held her breath. _Almost there. Just say it, Ro._

Hopeful expectation filled John's eyes at Rose's beginning. 

“John, I-..."

“So, that pesky thing is finally out! I bet you’re thrilled,” Rhiannon said, apparently appearing out of thin air. 

Rose shifted in bed, quickly putting a small amount of distance between her and John, who was clearly displeased with Rhiannon's unexpected intrusion if the glare he was attempting to mask was any indication. Martha just looked incredulously at the woman who had suddenly appeared beside her and shook her head.  
  
_So close...so bloody close._


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terrified–Katherine McPhee & Zachary Levi

“She was so close, Micks. You could practically hear it on the tip of her tongue. And then that-that _daft twit_ just showed up outta nowhere and was so bloody _thick_ that she opened up her gob and just-just…eerrgh!!!!” Martha fumed as she paced the hallway, completely out of sight and earshot from Rose and John.

_“Babe…y’need to calm down, ‘kay? I’m disappointed, too, but you blowin’ your top off is not gonna help anythin’. 'Sides, I’m sure she didn’t mean to barge in and ruin anythin’. Cut her a lil’ slack.”_

Martha stopped mid-pace. “How can you keep so bloody calm about this? Don’t ya realize what she’s done, what’s gonna happen?!”

Mickey let out a deep sigh. _“No, babe, what’s she done?”_

“She’s only just ruined _everythin’_! Y’know Rose; she’s gonna clam up again. She had just worked up enough nerve to say somethin' and now…eerrgh!!”

_“Martha, you do realize that this isn’t YOUR relationship, right? They have to get through this on their own terms and at their own pace, even if it is painfully slow to the point of madness.”_

Martha pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it as if it had personally wronged her. Quickly putting it back to her ear, she growled at her husband, “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this!” and ended the call.

oOo

Unfortunately, Martha’s instincts were entirely correct--Rose did clam up. In that split second, it was desire versus fear and, per her usual, fear won out. Rose had never been so confused or uncertain of anything in her entire life—at least, not since her parents’ death. She could see what she wanted—he was right there waiting beside her. But, it was as if there was a glass pane between them. No matter how fiercely she beat and clawed at it, no matter how many cracks or splinters appeared, Rose just couldn’t break through it to reach him; and that hurt more than any physical pain she could ever experience. 

As the days passed, Rose’s condition continued to improve rapidly. As Dr. Bradley had theorized, they were able to remove the chest tube after two more days, and her scans and vitals showed that her body was on its way to a full recovery. She still experienced quite a bit of pain at times, due in part to the few broken ribs, and also due to the fact that her body had sustained such a severe trauma.   
  
Adding to her pain was the fact that John's visits were less frequent. Although he always made sure to call her when he wasn’t there, Rose was still frightened that their awkward moment that day had finally caused John to draw away from her. She was terrified that one of her worst fears was going to come true, and there would be no one to blame but herself. 

After a little over a week, Rose was cleared for release, and Martha was the one to drive her home upon discharge. Secretly, Rose had hoped that John would be there as well; and when he wasn’t, she felt more than a little disappointed and sick at heart. It seemed to add weight and validity to her fears.   
  
The car ride was oddly quite as Rose stared out the window, her mind a raging storm of thoughts and emotions about John, and her frustrating and seemingly ingrained sense of fearful avoidance and denial. 

**_What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just let myself lo-… God, I can’t even say how I feel in my head._ **

Burning tears of frustration rimmed her eyes, and Rose could feel Martha’s eyes on her as she used her thumb to wipe at her tears. She turned and looked at Martha.

“Just say it.”

“What?” 

Rose sniffed and scoffed at Martha's question. “C’mon, don't act like I don't know you. Y’have something ya wanna say, so just say it. It can’t be any worse than what I’ve already said to myself,” she replied with faint bitterness in her voice.

“Don’t be like that, Rose. Why don’t ya talk to me ‘bout it instead of beating yourself up, yeah?”

Sniffing again, Rose turned her gaze back to the window as she lost the struggle to hold back her tears. She felt Martha gently squeeze her hand, and she turned her tear stained face back to meet her sister's gaze. 

Seeing the evidence of Rose's emotional pain, Martha pulled the car off to the side of the road. Her voice was soft and warm, beckoning her gently. “Rose, we’ve always been able to confide in each other. And we’ve been through the worst imaginable and made it through—don’t shut me out now. Don’t close yourself off. Not from me.”

Rose choked on her tears and let out a ragged breath. “I-I’m so messed up, Mar. I can’t…I can’t let go of-of…God, I don’t even know what to call it! Fear? Stupidity? I want to tell ‘im how I feel, but I can’t even say it to myself! I-I was tryin’ to tell ‘im that day in the hospital, but then that nurse came in. Y’know the sad part? I actually felt somewhat relieved and I don’t even really know why! How bloody twisted is that? I mean how screwed up am I that I actually felt that way? That I can’t tell 'im…but I wa-want…I-I…what if I-...I dunno what to do,” Rose broke down and began sobbing uncontrollably. Martha immediately unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled Rose into her arms to the best of her ability. Rose clutched at her desperately, sobs wracking her still weakened body.

After placing several kisses to her hair, Martha pulled back just enough to make eye contact with her. “I’m not gonna say I understand what you’re goin’ through, 'cause I don’t. I’m not even gonna pretend like I have the answers. As much as I like to think I have some kinda control in this, the truth is I don’t. You’re the only one that can do anythin’ bout it. You and ‘im. If he's what you want, you’re gonna have to try—really try—to let ‘im in. He needs to know what’s goin’ on. If not, you’re only gonna hurt ‘im, and I know you don’t wanna do that.”

Rose could only nod her head, tears still streaming down her face. She wiped her face and tried to put on some semblance of a smile. “Let’s just go home.”

oOo

Despite all of the uncertainty surrounding her, Rose was certain about one thing--she was anxious to see Tony. Though she had wanted to see him while in hospital, they had collectively decided it was best if Tony remained at home. They were concerned that seeing her battered and ill would be too frightening for him. Since they wouldn't be seeing each other, Rose had made sure that she called her little brother every day, even calling some nights to read him a bedtime story. Barring the occasional sleepover he would have at a friend’s house, they hadn’t spent any significant time apart since he was born, and Rose was ready for their separation to come to an end.   
  
Martha and Rose headed up the path, and as she reached the door, Rose took a bracing breath. As she opened the door, her eyes instantly focused on Tony, seeing only him. His brown eyes widened as he saw her, and he smiled brilliantly, even with the tears forming in his eyes. Unable to wait any longer, he ran towards her as she tried her best to lower herself to hug him. Eagerly Tony threw his arms around his sister and squeezed with all his might, causing Rose to sharply inhale and grimace at a fresh wave of pain. Tony stepped away and looked at her worriedly.

“Did I hurt ya?” he asked, his eyes wide and fearful.

Rose smiled through her pain, not wanting him to see her affected. “No, sweetheart. I’m just still really sore at times. I’ve missed ya so much Tony Bear,” she said through now present tears and pulled him into another hug, this time not caring whether or not she was in pain.

Still embracing the little boy, Rose glanced up and for the first time noticed who all was in the room—Mickey, Martha, Donna, Jack, and…John. She let out a quiet breath of relief that his absence was finally over. Finally disentangling herself from Tony, Rose stood and eagerly greeted everyone. When it came to John, she smiled at him and hugged him tighter than the rest, placing her hand on the back of his head as they embraced. 

**_Say somethin'..._ **

“I’m so happy to see you,” she whispered. 

When they parted, he beamed at her, and Rose felt something within her stir, just as it always did when they were together.

They all went into the living room, and Tony took his usual place on the floor with his toys. Martha and Mickey sat on one end of the sofa while Donna and Jack took the other end. This left the loveseat for John and Rose. They exchanged bashful glances, and sat down together somewhat awkwardly. Jack and Donna got the ball rolling and began catching Rose up on what had been going on with them. As the conversation began to evolve, Rose moved her hand hesitantly and sought John’s hand—never once making eye contact as she did so. She held her breath till she felt his fingers curl around her hand and felt his eyes on her. A small smile played on her lips though she still didn’t have enough courage to meet his gaze.

**_Can't say I'm not tryin'..._ **

More time passed and Rose was content at being in familiar surroundings, finally feeling some sense of normalcy return. As the evening progressed, Mickey turned to her with a mischievous smile.

“So Rose, since you're back home, ya feel like makin’ us some dinner? Lasagna sounds good.”

Glaring at her husband, Martha slapped him upside the head, eliciting peels of laughter from everyone. Mickey grimaced and rubbed his head.

“Oi! I was only jokin'! C’mon, like I’m really gonna ask her to cook.”

“Actually, I think that's our cue to get going,” Jack said as he stood up, Donna right behind him. “As much as I’d like to stay, I have some work I need to finish, especially if I want this promotion to go through.”

Smiling brilliantly at him, Donna rubbed his back reassuringly. “You’re worrying over nothing. Of course you’re gonna get it—you’re brilliant.”

Jack flashed a cocky smile. “Well, that _is_ true,” he said, giving her a rather tame kiss in light of the child in their midst. They said their goodbyes as Mickey and Martha walked with them to the door.

“Are…are you stayin’?” Rose asked John quietly, finally turning her gaze towards him. She quickly downcast her eyes when they met his.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked her, slight uncertainty in his voice.

Swallowing harshly, Rose faintly nodded and John squeezed her hand, causing her to look up and see his soft and comforting smile. 

“So…," Mickey's voice cut in as he and Martha popped back into the room, "How’s Chinese sound?”

After agreeing to the suggestion, they placed their order, and were soon sitting leisurely in the living room eating dinner. An hour after dinner, Martha put Tony to bed, despite his earnest pleadings. When she rejoined them, Mickey suggested a movie, and they all began to argue good naturedly about what to watch, resulting in John and Mickey winning the deciding coin toss.   
  
Halfway through the movie, Rose felt her eyes become heavy with sleep. She knew she should excuse herself and make her way to her room, but John’s arm had made its way across her shoulders and she was feeling completely at peace next to him. Rose continued to inwardly debate her course of action, yet never came to a conclusion—she had already fallen asleep.

oOo

John felt Rose curl in to his side and place a hand on his chest, causing him to look down and see her sleeping profile. A smile of contentment appeared on his face and he gently stroked her arm with his thumb. John honestly couldn’t remember how his arm had even made its way around her, but it was a more than pleasant realization. Martha started to yawn excessively and finally excused herself to go to bed, leaving Mickey, John, and a sleeping Rose. 

After a few moments of silently watching the movie, Mickey turned to John. 

“I never really thanked ya for all you’ve done. I know Martha did that day ya came to watch Tony. Even though that was from both of us, I want to tell ya myself. Thanks for all of it. Y'don't know how much it means.”

John gave a small smile and nodded his head. “You’re welcome, but there's no need to thank me. I'm actually the one that needs to thank you. You've let me be a part of your lives. That's more than I could ever have hoped for.”

Smiling warmly at the man, Mickey nodded his head in acknowledgment, turning his attention back to the screen. After a few more moments, he cleared his throat and spoke again.

“Y’know she cares about you, yeah?”

Immediately, John's eyes flickered over to Mickey, knowing to whom he was referring.

“I’d like to think so. At least, I hope she does,” he said, giving a lingering gaze down at Rose. 

Mickey turned his head to look at John. 

“Rose…she hasn’t had it the easiest. None of us have, honestly. She, uh...," he cleared his throat again, "I heard she told ya some of what 'appened with Jimmy.”

John’s eyes darkened at the recollection and he nodded his head.

Mickey's eyes became troubled as he resumed speaking, “He...well, he wasn't worth the dirt he walked on, let's leave it at that. After...," he paused, flitting his eyes back and forth, as if trying choose his words carefully, "After it ended, she didn’t really see anyone after ‘im. Mainly just stuck with me and Martha. Then when Pete and Jackie died…well, we made our own lil’ world. But even then, I had Martha. Rose—she hasn’t let anyone near her since. Not once. But you? You’re the only one who's ever gotten close to her, and that wouldn’t happen unless she felt somethin’ incredibly strong for you. And I’ve seen you two 'round each other and believe me—she’s never looked at anyone the way I’ve seen her look at you. Not even when she thought she was head over heels for that bloody wanker.”

John considered this for a moment before asking, "You don't have to say all that. I don't want you to feel like you're in the middle of things.”

Mickey sighed, “Yeah, I do need to say it. You're my friend, and you needed to hear it. An' what's more, I love Rose—her family practically raised me. But I know what she's been through, and that even now she’s goin’ through some stuff. Not sure what exactly, and even though I have some ideas, that should be somethin’ you two talk about. But just…just don’t give up, m‘kay? 'Cause if what ya feel for Rose is even half of what I feel for Martha, then I know y'll never forgive yourself if you don’t do everythin' ya can to be with her. And y’ll never find anyone who can even come close to what she means to you.”

John was silent for a few moments before he spoke again. “Thanks, Mickey.”

“If ya really wanna thank me, never mention to Martha that we had this conversation,” he chuckled.

At seeing John’s confusion, he added, “I might have told her in so many words to butt out. She'll skin me if she founds out I said somethin' after I told her to keep quiet.”

John laughed at Mickey's explanation, careful not to wake up Rose. Both men turned their attention back to the screen, but John couldn’t pay attention to the scenes playing out before him. He was too preoccupied with thinking over what Mickey had just divulged to him. He hadn’t planned on ever giving up on Rose, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t more than a little frustrated at the stop and start of their relationship—if you could even call it that. But Mickey’s words had given him hope that maybe he and Rose weren’t that far off from finally being with each other.  
  
He looked down at Rose’s sleeping face again and put his other arm around her, causing Rose to move in closer to his side. He became lost in his thoughts and hopes of what could—no— _would_ be, and found a new rush of determination. It wasn’t long though before his own eyes became sleep laden, and in a few short moments, he fell asleep, Rose still in his arms—where she belonged. 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge hug of thanks to ALL of you guys!
> 
> Beneath Your Beautiful–Labrinth

The sun peaked through the curtains, casting its rays onto the couple sleeping contentedly on the loveseat. Rose felt the warmth on her face and began to stir, a lazy satisfied smile playing on her lips. She moved her hand to wrap around her pillow…  
  
 _Wait…this…this is NOT a pillow…_

Rose felt a mental slap at the realization, and her eyes flew open—wide and terrified. She remained motionless but turned her eyes just enough to confirm her suspicions.   
  
_Oh. Sweet. Lord... I fell asleep…with John! And it’s not even like I just have my head on his shoulder—I’m clutchin’ ‘im like a bleedin' teddy bear!_

It wasn’t that Rose found the experience unpleasant—quite the contrary, actually. John's breathing was a steady and comforting rhythmic lullaby. His arms were protective yet gentle as they lay wrapped around her. In fact, Rose was absolutely convinced that this was by far the best way—maybe the only way—to wake up. But, she was already confused and had only made a small step here and there, and waking up cocooned in his arms was definitely _not_ a small step—it was the furthest thing from a small step.

_I should probably get up…maybe if I’m really, really careful I can wiggle free and not wake ‘im up. But…he’s so warm and...oh Lord, he smells so, so good. And are those-...? Yep, those are definitely muscles...wow...that’s—wait, I can’t be thinkin’ ‘bout this…at least not right now. I need to focus on gettin’ outta this. But, what if I wake ‘im up? That would just make things awkward, right? And no one’s up yet. Maybe it’s still early. Maybe I should just…stay like this. Y’know—just for a lil’ while._

Another smile tugged on Rose’s lips as she closed her eyes and nestled back into John, determining that her decision was based solely on reason and not on the fact that she simply didn’t want to leave the comforts of his embrace. 

oOo

John began to stir somewhat as he felt the rays of sunlight on his face. He felt something in his arms, and he instinctively curled tighter around the object. Taking a deep breath, his lungs became filled with a familiar scent. As he let out his breath, John's brain registered what that scent was—

_ROSE!_

John slowly opened one eye, and very cautiously, turned it downward, immediately seeing a sleeping Rose cuddled into him. The other eye opened instantly. 

_Oh. No...Well, not “oh no” as in, “Oh no, this isn’t good”...because this IS good. Beyond good. In fact, this makes good look like the worst possible thing imaginable…wait, does that even make sense? Who cares—not the time! What am I goin' to do? I mean she’s obviously asleep, so maybe if I move very, very slowly I can get off the couch and lay her against the armrest and she won’t wake up._

Just then, Rose nestled in closer to him, putting her hand further across his chest and sighing softly.

_Okay. That plan might not work. Um…what to do? What to do? If she wakes up and sees me awake, how’s she going to react? I don’t want to set us back any more than we already are. Wait, why am I even trying to get off the sofa? She’s asleep. She doesn’t know I’m awake, so I can just close my eyes again and pretend I’m asleep ‘til she gets up. That way she doesn’t feel awkward and I can still enjoy this for a little while longer._

With his mind made up, John sunk a little further into his seat, and unbeknownst to him, mirrored Rose’s smile. 

oOo

Tony awoke to complete silence. He could tell no one was awake, and that was what made the little boy wake up more readily. It was a rarity for the others to still be asleep when he awoke, and Tony treasured these few precious times like a shiny new toy. Quietly he made his way down the stairs, only stopping occasionally when a creak escaped from the aged wood. When he reached the ground floor, Tony had a critical decision to make—play with his toys in the living room or raid the kitchen of whatever sweets he could find. The sweets won out.   
  
When he entered the kitchen, Tony began to ponder over which treat he should indulge in and decided on biscuits—deciding that they would be the easiest to hide if someone should suddenly wake up. Pulling one of the chairs flush to the counter, Tony climbed up, and opened one of the cabinets. He knew Uncle Mickey hid the good stuff behind some nasty granola bars and cans so that Aunt Martha and Rose wouldn’t find them. He quickly found the treats, and quickly cleaned up any evidence that he was ever there.

Taking his prize to the living room, Tony sat down to nibble and play, but suddenly caught sight of Rose and John asleep on the loveseat. He cocked his head quizzically.

_Nobody told me we were havin’ a sleepover! Aunt Martha just put me to bed and didn’t say one word ‘bout John stayin’! That’s not fair!_

Tony got up off the floor and walked towards them, focusing in on John with narrowed, analytical eyes. 

_I don’t think he’s asleep. He looks just like Uncle Mickey does when he pretends to sleep so Aunt Martha won’t make ‘im do stuff._

Granted, Tony didn’t want the grownups to wake up yet, but John wasn’t just any grownup to him. He tiptoed over beside John, and got close to his face.

“John,” he whispered. When he didn’t get a response, Tony persisted. “John? John, are ya awake?” He punctuated his last question with a poke to John’s chest.

Slowly, John opened up an eye at him. A broad smile overtook Tony’s face and he waved vigorously at him. John smiled warmly, but then put a finger to his lips and gave Tony a very faint " _shh __," pointing at Rose’s sleeping figure._

Tony looked at her briefly then back to John.

“Wanna play?” Tony whispered. 

John looked over at Rose, then back to Tony, and an idea struck him. 

“Tony, can you do me a favor?” he asked in a very hushed tone. 

Tony nodded his head. “Sure.”

“Ok, here’s what I need you to do: I need you to wake up Rose while I pretend to be asleep. Can you do that?”

Tony scrunched up his face. “Rose is cranky when ya wake her up too soon.”

John grinned, but continued, “If you do this, I promise anything you want is yours. Deal?”

Tony seemed to weigh the plan at hand. Finally, he nodded in agreement before kneeling to the floor. “Just lemme hide these. Rose’ll get all mad if she sees me with ‘em,” he explained, quickly shoving the biscuits under the sofa.

Before John could stop him, Tony bounded in front of Rose and began shaking her arm. John’s eyes widened in momentary panic, but then he quickly went back to pretending to sleep.

“ROOOSE! Wakey wakey! ROOOSE!” Tony hollered. 

With a gasp, Rose bolted upright. Immediately, her eyes turned to John’s “sleeping” figure.

Turning to look at her brother, Rose gave him a faintly stern look. “Tony, sweetheart, quiet! John’s sleepin',” she said with a harsh whisper.

At Rose's words, John cracked an eye open. He could see Tony start to correct her, so he made eye contact with the little boy, and shook his head, putting a finger up to his lips in a silent admonition to keep quiet. 

Thankfully getting the hint, Tony looked at Rose and simply shrugged. “Oops.”

Running a hand through her disheveled hair, Rose briefly looked at John again. Shaking herself out of her private reverie, she looked back at Tony. “I want cereal. Ya want some cereal?” she questioned as she took Tony’s hand, and they made their way to the kitchen. 

John waited until he knew they were completely out of earshot. He then got up and went to the kitchen, testing out his acting skills as he did so. He entered the kitchen, stretched, and let out a yawn. 

“Morning,” he said with a smile.

Tony beamed and gave him an enthusiastic wave while Rose gave a bashful smile and said, “G’mornin’. Want some cereal?”

John's smile widened at her, causing her cheeks to pink. “Sounds great,” he said as he sat down next to Tony. Rose handed him a bowl, and sat down on the other side of Tony. They all sat quietly eating for a few moments before Tony broke the silence. 

“How come no one told me ‘bout the sleepover?”

At that innocent question, John choked on his cereal and Rose began to cough. Both of their faces turned the full spectrum of red as they both stumbled over each other trying to clarify what happened to Tony. 

“Weeellll—it wasn’t a sleepover, per se…”

“Tony, we didn’t have a sleepover …”

“There was a movie…”

“I was tired from all the excitement…”

Tony cut them off. “Ya didn’t make a pillow fort without me, did ya?”

Rose shook her head, focusing her eyes on Tony. “No pillow forts.”

Clearing his throat, John nodded in agreement. “That’s right—no pillow forts. No blanket forts, either. In fact, there were no pillows or blankets of any kind involved at any point. So, I think by definition, it was definitely _not_ a sleepover.”

Tony looked at both of them curiously, and then shrugged his shoulders. “M'Kay,” he said and went back to eating. 

Still blushing furiously, John and Rose kept glancing at each other, never truly making eye contact. Mickey came into the kitchen not too long after that small incident. When he saw John, his eyes widened but he said nothing. Instead, he grabbed a bowl and sat down beside him. 

“Don’t hog all the cereal, mate,” he said, knocking his elbow and grabbing the box. 

“Hey, if you wake up late, you don’t get to complain,” John grinned. 

“Never stopped ya before, has it, Mick?” Rose said teasingly.

“Go take a shower—you look like death!” 

“Shut up!” she said, and threw a piece of cereal at him. 

“Kids, enough!” Martha chided, suddenly entering the room. In retaliation for her slight, both Mickey and Rose turned and threw some cereal at her.

“Oi! Knock it off!” she yelled at them, sitting down and pouring her own bowl of cereal. 

They all sat around the table chatting, all of them feeling as if this was the natural way of things. As their leisurely breakfast came to a close, they started to disperse but John and Rose remained in the kitchen. 

“Do…do ya want some coffee or a cuppa?” Rose asked. Her feelings of awkwardness had returned now that it was just the two of them left in the room, and she nervously tucked at her hair. 

“Both sound great, so you choose,” he said, giving her a warm smile. 

Rose began moving around to make their tea, but her movements lacked their usual fluidity. Closing her eyes, she took a slow breath to steady her nerves. After a few minutes, the tea was ready and she sat down two steaming mugs on the table. She hesitated for a moment and then took a seat in the chair next to John. 

After taking a few sips, he said, “I think this is the best cuppa I’ve ever had.”

Rose smiled. “My mum taught me when I was a lil' girl. No one could hold a candle to her tea.”

“Is she the reason why you opened a café? You never did tell me how you all decided to open the shop.”   
  
As soon as he asked the question, a look of worry crossed John's face at the subject he had just decided to pursue.

Rose nodded and smiled as she finally looked him in the eye. “Kinda. My mum loved tea, but my dad not so much. In fact, my mum would accuse ‘im at times of being anti-British because he preferred coffee. When they…," Rose cleared her throat and flitted her eyes away briefly, "We took various jobs. Mickey was workin’ at a local auto-shop. Me and Martha worked at Henrik’s for a while. We both hated it—actually threw a party when it burnt down.   
  
"We had some money from my parents’ death set aside, so we decided to try something different. We thought ‘bout what we should do with it for a while. I don’t know which one of us brought up the idea first, but we all thought that it would be a way to remember ‘em—kinda keep their memory alive, y’know? Did a lot of the fix-up ourselves. Still had to work while we did it. It’s a wonder we didn’t kill each other, seeing how knackered we were all the time. But…here we are…”   
  
Rose was proud of herself that she had been able to get through telling him all of that and not breaking down. 

John sat back in his chair and looked at her, awe written all over his face. “You’re truly incredible, y'know that? To do what you’ve all done. To not give up.”

“Oh...I dunno ‘bout that,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and looking away.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit—or any at all, for that matter. How about trying something new?” 

Rose eyed him hesitantly. “And what would that be?”

“I’m going to give you a compliment and you—you are going to accept it. No fighting,” John said as he gave her a brilliant grin.

Rose let out a light chuckle. “I’ll _try._ How’s that?”

His grin widened. “It’ll do for now.” For a moment, they continued to smile at each other, but then John glanced down at his watch. “I probably should go now. I need to clean up and I have something I need to get to Jack,” he said, standing up.

Rose’s disappointment was evident—much to his delight—but she pushed it aside and stood up with him. He said his goodbyes to them all and left the house. After closing the door behind him, Rose put her back against the door and let out a slow breath.

**_Maybe I should…_ **

Before she even realized what she was doing, Rose flung open the door and called out to him. Stopping mid-step, John turned around and looked at her questioningly. Rose quickly closed the door behind her and hurried up to him. 

Her mind was a jumbled mess of confusion and uncertainty as she stopped in front of him.

“I was…um…that is, I was wondering if ya would…and y’don’t have to…but I thought maybe…that is if ya want…”

“Rose?” John interjected, halting her rapid fumble.

Biting her lip, her eyes jerked upward to meet his amused ones. “Yeah?”

“Is there a question somewhere in there?” he asked with a grin.

Rose let out a nervous giggle, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Uh…yeah…I think so,” she said and took a pause. “Do ya want to come over for dinner?” she blurted out.

At her invitation, John's smile broadened, becoming slightly silly. “I’d love to. When?”

**_When? When? I didn’t think about the when. Ummm…_ **

“Well...you said ya had stuff to do today, sooo…when’s good for you?”

“I should be free Monday.”

Rose nodded, tucking her hair again. “Okay. Monday, then.” She turned to go back to the house, but then, abruptly stopped and—for what she could only attribute to a moment of insanity—brushed her lips against his cheek. Then, looking at him like a deer caught in headlights, Rose smiled and hurried inside—leaving John outside gobsmacked, grinning, and more than ready for Monday to come.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Time–Lifehouse

“So, what do you think?” John asked Jack, sitting down in the chair opposite his desk. 

Jack leaned back in his chair. “Honestly? I think it’s your best work, no question. It’s poignant and honest. Reminds me of why I was so insistent you write a novel in the first place. It has all the passion of your earlier work. It might have taken you till the eleventh hour to deliver, but it was definitely worth it.”

“What do you think Adam will say?”

Jack let out a contemplative sigh. “Well, I know the genre change will take him by surprise, but I’ve never known him to turn down an opportunity to make money. He sees the profit, I see the talent. So, don’t worry about him. There’s no way I will let this one go,” he said assuredly.

Jack’s confidence put John at ease. Admittedly, he was uneasy about changing his established genre, but the words had flowed so naturally that he couldn’t stop himself from pursuing it. It was the most meaningful thing he had written, far surpassing his previous work, and he knew it. John was intimately connected to it—connected to its inspiration. 

“I do have one slight concern,” Jack said, looking squarely at John and leaning forward, putting his forearms on the desk.

“Which is?” he asked as he leaned forward and prepared himself for Jack’s criticism. 

“Have you told her?” he asked, concern and hesitation evident in his question. 

John sighed and shook his head. “Not yet, but I will—soon.”

oOo

“Ya shouldn’t be here. You should be at home restin' and y'know it,” Martha said indignantly, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. She was beyond frustrated that Rose had decided to come to the shop today. She had tried everything short of sitting on her to prevent her from coming, but Rose had been adamant and therefore, beyond reason. Business had been slow so far, but nonetheless, Martha didn’t want her working.

Rose rolled her eyes. “I spent almost two weeks lyin' around in a hospital bed and nearly went barmy. I don’t wanna do the same thing at home. I just want to get back to my normal routine; and normally I’m here. So quit being so fussy!”

Martha huffed in annoyance. “It wasn't 'lyin' around', Rose. It's called recovering. And I’m not bein' fussy. I’m being practical.”

“Whatever. Either way, it’s annoyin’. Just stop complainin' and be happy to have me around, yeah?” Rose said, bumping Martha’s arm playfully. 

Martha sighed before giving her a quick side hug. “Ya know I’m beyond happy that you’re back here with me. I just don’t want you to push yourself too much. We all have a breakin’ point.”

Rose returned her hug and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “I know, love. But, can ya stop being so overprotective? Just for a bit?”

“You’re one to talk, y’know,” Martha countered, arching an eyebrow at her; but on seeing the expression on Rose’s face, she relented, putting her hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll try. No guarantees. You're my sister and it's what we do.”

Smiling in satisfaction, Rose gave her another quick hug. 

“Y’know I’m proud of you, yeah?” 

Rose looked at her confusedly and Martha continued, “About John. I know it’s not easy for you to open up.”

She nodded before shrugging her shoulders. “I'm not really doin' anythin'... I... I’m actually kinda nervous ‘bout ‘im comin’ over tonight. I don’t know why; it’s not like I’ve never been on a date. Although, I don’t think you can really count this as a date. Not sayin' that I want it to be,” Rose added, feeling the need to clarify even though it was a blatant lie, whether or not she chose to acknowledge it or not.

Martha chose to forego arguing about that last statement, and merely shrugged. “It’s close enough for now. I’m just happy ya actually asked him to do somethin’.”

Before they could continue the subject, Donna walked in and did a double take upon seeing Rose. 

“What are _you_ doin' here?” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at Rose.

“Good to see you too, Donna,” Rose said with a smile.

Donna was unfazed. “You just got out of hospital, you nutter! The last thing you should be doin' is working.”

“That’s what I said—minus the 'nutter' part. But she's too bleedin' stubborn to listen to sense,” Martha huffed.

Rose let out a frustrated growl, running a hand through her hair. “Listen, you two, I’m _fine_. I’m just makin’ drinks. S’not exactly hard labour. So please, just button it.”

Both Martha and Donna grumbled some things under their breaths before Donna gave her order. 

“Come sit with me. You’re not busy right now, and we haven’t talked in ages,” Donna said as Rose handed her the drink. 

“I’d love to," Rose agreed with a smile, quickly making herself a latte. The two women went to the back of the shop and sat on the sofa. Donna took a sip of her drink and gave a pleased hum. 

“So tell me about what’s going on between you and my brother,” she said rather nonchalantly as she took another sip. 

Donna’s topic of choice caught Rose off guard and her eyes widened in slight surprise. She let out small chuckle as she said, “You never were one to beat around the bush. What exactly do ya wanna know?”

Donna shrugged. “I don’t know. Just give me _something_. It’s like pullin' teeth trying to get John to tell me anythin'.”

Rose gave a small bashful smile, tucking her hair behind her hair in nervousness. “Well…I _really_ like ‘im.”

“Well, I knew _that_! I’m not completely daft, ya know. I’ve known that little tidbit for weeks. Give me somethin' new, somethin' juicy.”

Rose couldn’t help but laugh at Donna’s eager manner. “I honestly don’t know what to tell ya.”

“You’re no help,” Donna huffed, taking another sip. After a pause, she continued, “I’m glad you two met. You’re both better for it.”

“What makes you say that?” Rose inquired curiously, but feeling herself inwardly fidget at the route of the conversation.

“You both seem more…I don’t know…alive, I guess. John’s always been a bit manic—never stopping for a minute. But recently, it seemed to me to be more because he just didn’t know what to do with himself or where he belonged—kinda like he was searching without realizing it. But since he’s met you, he seems to have direction—like he has a purpose.”

For some unknown reason, that statement struck a chord with Rose and she felt her breath briefly catch.

Donna continued, “And you—you seem to have this spark in your eyes now. You’re just… _different_ when I see you together. You seem happier.”

Rose smiled and looked down at her hands, and said quietly, “I…I _am_ happier with ‘im.”

Donna's eyes softened and she smiled at her. “Then for heaven’s sake, _do_ something about it!”

oOo

John knocked on the door and tried to quell the nervousness that was brewing within him. He chastised himself for his foolishness.

_It’s not like this is a first date. I mean, I’ve been over here frequently—no need to feel like a nervous teenager._

However, he knew what made this time different— _Rose_ had actually been the one to ask him to come. It was the first move she had made, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. In fact, it had fueled his hope and determination. 

Martha opened the door for him and as he entered, she said, “Y’know, you don’t have to wait for one of us to answer the door. I think that after everythin' we’ve been through together, you can come an' go as you please.”

That gesture took John completely by surprise, and caused him to literally stop in his tracks. “Seriously?”

Martha looked at him like he was daft for questioning her before swatting his arm. “Of course. S’not as if you’re some random bloke. You’re practically family now.”

John couldn’t begin to fathom what he could possibly have done to deserve these people. His life had never felt so full, so complete as it did now. He beamed at her, and the two of them went into the living room where Mickey was sprawled out on the couch watching a match. At their approach, he turned his head and greeted him. As his eyes went back to the screen, they caught a glimpse of a bag in John’s hand.

“What’s in the bag?”

John had forgotten that he had brought a bag. His memory now jogged, he looked at the bag and said, “It’s something for Tony. I’ve been meaning to give it to him for a while and I finally remembered to bring it with me. Where is he anyway?”

Mickey nodded towards the kitchen. “He’s helpin’ Rose cook. He probably just didn’t hear ya come in.”

Without hesitation, John turned and walked towards the kitchen, Mickey's shouts of protest at the telly echoing behind him. When John got to the kitchen, he saw Rose at the stove, stirring what smelled like alfredo sauce. Tony was at the table, running a block of cheese slowly across a grater, his brow furrowed and tongue out in concentration. 

Hearing John's approach, Rose looked up at him and smiled happily. At seeing her, his own face burst into a smile without any effort on his part. 

“Hello,” he said with a little wave.

“Hello. We’re almost ready. Aren’t we, Tony?” she said, half turning her body towards Tony. 

Tony looked up from his task and smiled. “Yep!” He put down the now tiny block of cheese and went to hug John, but before he could reach him, Rose grabbed ahold of his collar and stopped him. 

“Aaat! You have cheese all over your hands. Go wash up! John doesn’t need you using ‘im as a napkin.”

The little boy stuck his lip out in irritation, but quickly obeyed.

John moved toward her. “Would you like some help?”

“Actually, I’m okay,” she said, picking up the plate of grated cheese that Tony had left on the table. “I’m just gonna add this and everythin’ should be done in a few minutes. What’s that?” she asked as she caught sight of the bag. 

“Surprise for Tony.”

“What is it?” 

“That would be telling. You’ll just have to wait till later!” he said, grinning at her. Rose rolled her eyes good-naturedly and smiled. 

In short order, dinner was ready. They all sat down, and once again, fell into easy conversation. John cherished these times with them. He was amazed that he fit so easily within their family dynamic. He didn’t feel like an outsider looking in—he felt at home in a way he had never before experienced. It wasn’t as if his own family was cold or that he never felt like he belonged. Far from it, actually. This was a feeling in another league entirely. The way John felt being there—specifically, being with Rose—was something unique; there really wasn’t a way to compare the two. 

After he'd returned from washing up earlier, Tony had seen the bag John had brought for him, and all throughout dinner, had pressed him about what it contained. John assured him that he would find out after dinner. So the second dinner was over, Tony leapt out of his chair, took John’s hand and the bag, and bolted towards the living room. The rest of them soon followed, and when they finally made their way into the room, they saw Tony holding a medium sized sphere. He looked up at John expectantly, eager for him to explain the object. 

“Remember when we first met and you mentioned Rose took you to the planetarium?” he asked him.

Tony nodded. 

“This,” John said, smiling, “is like a mini planetarium. You plug it in, turn off the lights, and it shines the stars and constellations onto the ceiling. Now you can turn your room into outer space any time you want.”

Tony’s eyes were wider than he had ever seen them. The little boy looked at the object in wonder, holding it as if it was the most precious object in the world—to him it was. 

“This…is…AWESOME!” He carefully put the object down and then threw his arms around John’s neck. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” he chanted, bouncing in excitement.

Chuckling, John hugged him back.

“Can we turn it on now? Oh! Let’s use it down here! The ceiling is much bigger. Please?!” Tony squealed excitedly and turned from adult to adult, looking for permission from any one of them.

Rose beamed at his enthusiasm and nodded yes. “Sure, sweetheart.” 

John and Tony began clearing away objects off the floor. Mickey and Martha decided to go out for a while, saying they wanted some time to themselves. While John and Tony made the area acceptable for “stargazing,” Rose cleaned up the kitchen. When she was finished, she found them lying on the floor with John describing the various constellations. On hearing Rose come in, Tony rolled onto his stomach and looked at her. 

“C’mon, Rose. John’s tellin’ me about Cass-e-o…what’s it called?” he asked looking over at John.

“Cassiopeia.”

“Right. That. C’mon, Rose!” he implored.

Smiling at his exuberance, Rose walked over to them. Tony was next to the sofa, which meant the only place Rose could lie down was next to John. She was grateful that the room was mostly dark; that way, John wouldn’t be able to see her blush. The three of them laid there as John told them various legends and both Rose and Tony asked questions. Before too long, Tony had drifted off during one of John’s stories with his arm draped across John’s chest. Rose and John continued to lay there quietly looking up at the “stars."

“They finally told me what happened—how I ended up in hospital,” Rose said, breaking the silence yet keeping her eyes upward.

John turned his head towards her. “You okay?”

Slowly, Rose met his gaze. “Yeah…I mean I guess as okay as you can be with gettin' hit by a car. I still don’t remember it. The last thing I remember is…,” she trailed off and diverted her eyes.

“Us fighting,” he finished knowingly.

Rose gave a barely perceptible nod. 

“I’m so sorry. You have no idea how terrible I feel about that night.”   
  
Rose could hear the regret and hurt in his voice.

“S’not all your fault, y’know. It wasn’t exactly a shining moment for either of us.” After a brief pause, she continued. “Before that, the evening was rather…”

“Rather what?” 

She turned her gaze back to him. “Rather perfect.”

John grinned at that. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  
His grin broadened and she smiled that tongue in teeth smile that, unbeknownst to her, he adored.

Tony began to squirm, causing Rose and John to divert their attention to him. Seeing the lateness of the hour, she reluctantly began to get up. “Can ya help me get ‘im upstairs? He’s got school tomorrow, and he won’t sleep good if he’s on the floor.”

In a matter of seconds, John had swiftly moved the little boy so that he was now cradled against his chest. They both went up to his room, and John laid Tony gently down in bed, careful so as not to wake him. He pulled the covers closely around Tony and softly kissed his forehead.   
  
John and Rose walked together to the door, both reminiscing about the last time they did that very thing. As Rose went to open the door for him, John grabbed her hand, causing her to look up at him. 

“Rose?” he said hesitantly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

He saw fear flash in her eyes, and for a fleeting moment, feared she would retreat yet again. But to his surprise, she faintly nodded, her eyes wide. Cautiously, he lowered his lips to hers. It wasn’t anything earth shattering or spellbinding, and in no way did it meet the promising intensity of the one they had shared that tragic night. Rather, this kiss was simply a promise.  
  
When they broke apart, they met each other with soft smiles. John faintly grazed her cheek with his knuckles.

“So...I’ll see ya tomorrow?” Rose asked, her voice filled with quiet hope.

He grinned down at her. “Count on it.”


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When The Stars Go Blue–Tyler Hilton and Bethany Joy Lenz

Rose was beaming—she couldn’t help it, and she couldn’t stop. But it wasn’t as if she was exactly trying to stop, either. She was in the middle of cleaning the portafilters on the espresso machine when a voice pulled her out of her musings.

“What happened?”

Abruptly, Rose stopped her cleanup, turning her head towards Martha and furrowing her brow in confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout?” she asked, genuinely at a loss as to her meaning. 

Martha folded her arms in front her, smirking as if she was privy to some secret. “Last night. You an' John. What happened?”

Rose tried her best to feign ignorance and shrugged. “Nothin’ really. The three of us laid on the floor and John told us about the constellations and some stories. Put Tony to bed and…uh…that’s ‘bout it.”

The smirk grew and Martha arched an eyebrow. “You’re such a liar!” she sniggered.

“I am _not_! That’s exactly what happened!”

“Oh, I have no doubt that you did all that. But I think—no scratch that—I _know_ that somethin’ else definitely happened. Somethin’ pretty good.”

Rose couldn’t help but fidget at Martha’s inquiry. She felt as if Martha was circling her, ready to pounce—it was a little unnerving. She tried to keep her tone calm and indifferent. “An' what makes ya think that?” 

“Seriously? We're gonna play this game? Well, for starters, you’ve been smilin’ like a loon all morning. You’ve been singin’—which ya haven’t done outside the shower in forever. And you’ve been walkin’ around with your head in the clouds. So…tell me what happened last night.”

Blushing, Rose turned her head away and muttered something unintelligible. 

“What was that now?” Martha said with a smile in her voice, leaning forward and waiting for confirmation of what she already suspected. 

Still avoiding her gaze, Rose muttered again, only slightly louder than previously.

Martha let out an exaggerated sigh of impatience. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the ringing of the phone. 

“We’re _so_ not finished here,” she said with grin and then answered the phone. “Thanks for callin’ _The Cuppa_. This is Martha……Hey, Donna. What’s up?” She was silent for a few moments. Then letting out a snort, she moved the phone from her mouth. 

“Donna wants to know what happened last night.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “Why?” she asked, confused as to how Donna could possibly suspect that something had transpired last night. 

Martha grinned, and moved the phone back. “Rose wants to know why you’re askin’……uh-huh…… _oh, really_ ,” she drawled slyly and addressing Rose, said, “Donna says John was grinnin’ like an idiot when she saw ‘im this morning and he wouldn’t say why.”

“Well, tell Donna—,” Rose started but Martha cut her off.

“She says to not try an' pull one over on her,” Martha giggled, highly amused by this situation.

Rose huffed, her frustration brewing. “Tell her—" Again she was cut off.

“She says she knows somethin’ went down and ya better spill!” 

Tired of the back and forth, Rose wrenched the phone out of Martha’s hand. 

Her tone was teetering between anger and annoyance. “Donna, I……Don-……No, I-……Would y-……I-… _oh, for God’s sake—WE KISSED, ALRIGHT?!_ ” She pulled the phone away from her ear as Donna’s ecstatic shrieks blared through the earpiece. It wasn’t of any benefit, as Martha’s own squeals threatened to burst her eardrums. 

“You two are absolutely ridiculous!” she grumbled, rolling her eyes before shoving the phone at Martha and stomping off.

Martha quickly put the phone to her ear. “Donna?......I KNOW!!” she squealed, jumping up and down like a giddy teenager. 

oOo oOo oOo

“This isn’t what you pitched to us originally. This isn’t even in the vicinity of close to it; and, it’s not as if you just changed storylines. No, you’ve completely changed your genre! I’ve given you extension after extension and this is what you give me? Why should we publish this? Why should we take such a risk?” Adam Hartman ranted. 

John had never really liked Adam. In truth, the only reason he had gone with Torchwood Titles was because of Jack. Jack was the heart and soul of Torchwood, truly interested in substance over sales, and John couldn’t possibly trust anyone more than he did Jack. John had tried to spend as little time as possible with Adam, and therefore, he couldn’t tell if his manner was more of a front, a way of testing his resolve, or if he was truly irate. He could see Jack in his periphery and saw that he was perfectly composed. John decided it didn’t matter what Adam’s motive was—he was going to defend his work, no matter the cost. He felt too passionate about this to let it go without a fight. 

“ _Why?_ You mean _other_ than the fact that the last two novels were Top 10 bestsellers and brought in _millions_ of dollars for _your_ company? How about the fact that this is the best work I’ve done and you know it? Or maybe the fact that I’m one of your highest grossing authors? Would you like me to keep going or have I given you enough reasons for you to get off your pom-..."

Jack put his hand out in front of John, signaling him to stop before he did irreparable damage, and quickly spoke up. “Adam, John makes a valid point. You and I both know that this is his best work. In fact, it’s not just _his_ best work. It’s probably the best work we’ve seen in years—period. I’ve never steered you wrong, you can’t deny that. I’m telling you—if we pass on this, we are going to regret it. Our firm has already taken several hits from that fiasco Saxon’s work caused, and John’s novel is the type of thing that will put us back in the limelight—the good kind.”

Adam leaned back in his chair, holding his chin in heavy contemplation. He gave a faint nod in agreement. 

“Fine, we’ll back it. I have a conference call in ten minutes, so we will meet tomorrow and work out the logistics. But know this,” he said, leaning forward and pointing a finger at John, “if this doesn’t meet to my complete satisfaction, I will sever your contract in an instant. Make no mistake about that.”

A few minutes later, Jack and John exited Adam’s office. Jack gave John a slap on the back. “Told ya it would work out.”

John still looked slightly uncertain. “I wouldn’t jump the gun on that. He still seemed upset when we left.”

“Adam can be a real prat sometimes, not to mention one of the biggest blowhards you’ll ever meet. He doesn’t like to be shown up. He knows he was wrong and his threat in there was nothing more than his attempt at saving face,” Jack assured him with smile. “Just relax. I’ve got this.”

John let out a breath, trying to release the built up tension that had been plaguing him all morning. 

“Alright, I’m gonna head to _The Cuppa_ , so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” John said as he turned to make his way to the lift.

“I’ll ride with you. I’m cutting out early so Donna and I can spend the rest of the day together.”

In short order, the doors opened and they joined the few people already present, not paying attention to any of them. It was a rather long ride to the lobby, and the perfect opportunity for Jack to press John for some details. He turned to him, flashing a knowing smirk. “So… _The Cuppa_ , huh? Why are ya goin’ there?”

John was tired of holding back; there was no sense in it anymore. “I’m going to see Rose. Happy?” 

Jack chuckled. “I am, actually. So, are things official between you two?”

“Not exactly,” John sighed, but then smiling, added, “but I think we’re getting close.” 

“Well then, I’m gonna ask you the same thing I did yesterday—did you tell her? About the book?”

“I already told you I’m going to. You seem to think this is going to be some sort of big deal." John couldn’t pinpoint exactly why Jack pressing this issue was beginning to annoy him—all he knew was that it was. 

Jack looked at him squarely, concern etched in his features. “John, think about it. Rose has been through a lot—more than a lot, actually. From what I’ve gathered, she’s had a difficult time dealing with things. And your novel has major parallels to her life. If she finds that out on her own, how is she gonna take it?”

“Jack, I’m not writing her life story. You’ve read the manuscript—that’s not the crux of it at all. Was that not obvious?” He was starting to get defensive, feeling like his intentions were being twisted. 

“John, I get exactly what you’re trying to convey, and I think it’s profound. Like I told you, it’s the best thing I’ve read. I’m just saying that she probably would appreciate you telling her about it _before_ it hits the shelf. Don’t ya think so?”

Before John could answer, the lift reached the lobby and the doors parted. Both men headed towards the main entrance of the building, neither of them noticing the last person to exit the lift. The person who had been listening with rapt attention. The person who found this new information to be _very_ beneficial—Yvonne Hartman. 

oOo oOo oOo

Rose found herself constantly checking the time. John had promised last night that they would see each other today, and as morning merged into afternoon, she was becoming increasingly anxious to see him. She was making a conscious effort to open up more; but even though she was making the effort, she _still_ found herself battling against her fears, however irrational some of them were. After eight years, it was definitely a hard habit to break.

Tuesdays were always slow at the shop, and this one more so than usual. Martha had gone to surprise Mickey with an impromptu lunch date, leaving Rose to idly pass the time. She had tried reading, but found she couldn’t keep focused to really appreciate what was on the page. So, she began to do every small and tedious task she could find to keep herself occupied. Everything was dusted. Dishes were done. The floors were swept and mopped. She had even rearranged the books three time—first, alphabetically, then by genre, and finally, by author. She was beginning to go just a _bit_ stir-crazy. Well, maybe more than just a bit. She was honestly getting ready to count the espresso beans in the hopper, when John finally came in. Their eyes met, and Rose could feel herself break into a brilliant and involuntary smile. John met her smile with one of his own equally brilliant grins, the same grin that made Rose’s insides flutter like mad. 

She braced her arms on the counter as he approached. “I was startin’ to think you’d changed your mind.”  
  
She hoped that her lighthearted tone would hide the fact that had genuinely been concerned that he wouldn’t show. 

“Why would I change my mind?” 

Rose shrugged, turning her head down and giving a shy smile. “I dunno. 'Cause it’s Tuesday.”

John chuckled. “What’s that have to do with anything?”

She gave a faint giggle, blushing. “It’s just somethin' me and Martha say. Sometimes when we don’t really have a good reason, we just blame the day of the week. I know—it doesn’t really make sense.”

John just chuckled and shook his head. “Martha here?”

“Nah...she went to eat lunch with Mickey. She’ll be back soon, though. And Calleigh’s s’posed to come in in a few and then I get to leave.”

John’s smile widened at that. “So that means you’ll be free to do something?”

Rose grinned and went to answer, but suddenly Calleigh entered the shop, her eyes red and mascara smudged. She was sniffling as she made it to the counter and threw her bag down.

Seeing her so upset, Rose immediately became concerned. “Cal, what’s wrong?”

Calleigh shook her head vigorously and sniffled again. “Nothin’.”

Anyone with sense could tell that she was obviously lying. Rose turned Calleigh towards her, her eyes soft and worried. 

Calleigh’s lip started to quiver and she burst into tears. “M-my b-boyfriend dumped m-me!”

Rose pulled her into a hug. “Oh, sweetie! I’m so sorry.”

Calleigh pulled back slightly. “I-I don’t kn-know what to do,” she sobbed and buried her head back into Rose’s shoulder.

Rose stroked her back while John just stood there awkwardly, completely uncomfortable and at a loss as to what to do. He pointed to one of the leather chairs. “I’m just going to-to sit over there away from…this,” he said and quickly walked away. 

“Men are pigs,” Calleigh spat out. 

“I know, sweetie. I tell you what—you go home, you get a bottle of wine and watch a movie, something where everythin's blowin’ up or somethin' 'bout revenge. No romantic movies of _any __kind.”_

“It w-was our anniversary today,” Calleigh said through renewed sobs. 

“Ok, skip the wine and just go straight for tequila. Go ahead and head home. I’ll stay.”

“I’m so sorry, Rose. I don’t mean to be such a mess,” Calleigh said as she stepped back and wiped at her face. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Cal,” Rose said, giving her a reassuring smile. Calleigh picked up her bag and left.

Now that the awkwardness had passed, John came back over. “So I take it you’re no longer free?” he said, his disappointment evident. 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t make her stay, it wouldn’t have been fair to her.”

“No, no, I understand." John began rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, I can stay here for a while—maybe help you.”

Rose gave him a disbelieving smirk. “Y'know how to make drinks?”

“Weelll, no, but how hard can it be?” At seeing Rose’s eyebrows jump, he quickly tried to clarify. “No, No! I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that-..."

She chuckled as he began to flounder. “It’s okay. C’mon then,” she said, motioning him to come behind the counter. 

He came around to her and she hopped on the counter, ready to observe his attempts. John looked around at the equipment and tugged on his ear. “So, uh…what do I do?” he asked sheepishly. 

Rose laughed. “Oh, no—you said it can’t be that hard. Let’s see ya figure it out, Mr. Impressive.”

John began to putter around, trying to figure out where to begin. Rose couldn’t help but chuckle and snort when something went wrong and he grumbled irritably. After a few minutes of John’s frustrated attempts, she hopped off the counter and came up beside him. 

“Alright, alright. Stop before ya break somethin’. How ‘bout ya try somethin’ simple—like steamin’ milk?” She poured some milk into a pitcher and handed it to him. “Okay—this is the steam wand. Pitcher goes under there. Once it’s in there, ya lift up the lever. G'on and try it.”

John did as she instructed. 

“Ok, the wand’s too far down and you’re gonna scald the milk. Here,” Rose said and put her hand on his to help him.  
  
At her touch, John’s hand jerked, causing milk to spatter on them both. He quickly turned off the steam and faced her, an apology written all over his face. For a moment, Rose just stood there stunned, but then she quickly began to burst out giggling. John soon followed suit.

“I think I better stick to drinking and leave the technical part to you,” he said, still giggling. 

“Yeah, I think that’s probably best,” she chuckled with a smile.

“You’ve got some milk there,” John said softly, and before Rose could react, he reached up and wiped it away, his hand lingering against her cheek. Her breath hitched at his touch and her head started to spin. John just started to lean in when Martha’s voice broke the moment.

“Sorry, Rose, I didn’t mean to take so long. Mic-...,” Martha trailed off as she realized she had walked in on a moment. Rose and John stepped back from each other. 

_Why does this keep happening? Every. Single. Time!_ John thought to himself. “I’ll just head out now.”

“Ya don’t have to hurry off,” Martha said, trying to salvage the situation.

John gave a small smile as he tried to hide his disappointment. “It’s alright. I should leave you two alone, let you get work done. I’ll see you later.”

Rose squeezed his hand. “See ya later,” she said, giving him a quick smile. 

oOo oOo oOo

Yvonne Hartman did not take rejection well. All of her life, she had always gotten what she wanted; but instead of feeling privileged, she felt entitled. Her relationship with John Noble had been very brief and she was shocked when _he_ had ended things—who _wouldn’t_ want to be with her?  
  
Yvonne had tried to rekindle a relationship with him, but was repeatedly given the cold shoulder. And then that night at the gala, she had seen her “replacement” and was enraged. He had turned her down for _that_ —oh, no way was she going to let that stand! Now, she wasn’t concerned with getting back together—no, now she just wanted to have some fun at his expense. Which is why, when she overheard John and Jack’s conversation in the lift, Yvonne decided to pay a nice little visit to Rose.

Wednesday morning she walked into _The Cuppa_. Fortunately for her, Rose was behind the counter putting desserts in the display case. Rose heard her come in, and when she made eye contact with her, Yvonne put on a smile and walked up to her.

“Oh, hello! I know you! You’re the woman from the gala—the one who came with John!" she said in feigned surprise and snide sweetness. She could tell Rose was uncomfortable with her presence which satisfied her all the more.

“Yeah, I was,” Rose said with a tight smile.

“It's so nice to see you again," Yvonne purred before putting on a mask of shame, "You know, I owe you an apology.”

Confused by her statement, Rose crinkled her forehead. “For what exactly?”

Smoothing out her blouse, Yvonne sighed softly. “Well, I jumped to conclusions. I was rude to you and I didn’t realize the real reason why you were there.”

Rose's confusion was still apparent. “The real reason?”

“You’ve been helping John with his novel. I didn't realize it was his way of saying thank you.”

Her confusion growing even more, Rose shook her head. “I haven’t helped John with anythin'.”

Reaching out in a playful swat, Yvonne gave a false smile. “Oh, no need to be so modest. My father’s John’s publisher, so I know all about it. I have to say, I really feel for you. Going through all that tragedy and pain. You’re life has been so horrible, but here you’ve made a little something out of yourself,” she finished, wiggling her fingers around the room. "Good for you."

Yvonne could see Rose blanche and begin to shake slightly. “Are ya sayin' that…," she swallowed convulsively, "that John’s novel is about my life?”

Placing her hand against her chest, Yvonne did her best to look shocked. “You mean you didn’t know? Oh, no...I'm so sorry…I just assumed…I hope I haven’t upset you. I’m sure you don’t need yet another thing to deal with.”

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Rose cleared her throat and quickly regained her composure. "Are ya gonna order somethin'?”

Yvonne put her hand on Rose’s. “I’m sorry. I can see I’ve upset you. I’ll leave now. Take care.” Giving another fake smile, Yvonne sauntered out of the shop completely satisfied with her work.

oOo oOo oOo

That evening, John was relaxing in his flat. Though he was watching the telly, he found his mind preoccupied with thoughts of his relationship with Rose instead of the images on the screen. He felt confident about the way things were progressing. Rose was opening up more, letting him in. John knew there were things that still needed to be discussed, but he felt that soon all of that would be set to right, and they could finally take significant steps toward being together.  
  
Suddenly, John's thoughts were interrupted by an angry pounding at his door. He quickly got up to answer it. As he opened the door, he was instantly met with searing slap to his face. As his vision came back into focus, John saw Rose in front of him, eyes blazing and shaking with rage.


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanna say thanks for your continued support and interest. ∞
> 
> Stay--Safetysuit

John could still feel the searing sting of Rose’s slap on his face. To say he was dumbfounded would be a complete understatement. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined the scenario at hand—Rose at his door, full of fire and rage, and it all directed at him. John had never seen her so enraged, not even after the ketchup mishap.   
  
_What just happened?_  
  
John suddenly realized that, in his daze, he had missed Rose rushing off. He quickly ran into the hallway and chased after her. 

“Rose!” he called out to her, but she refused to acknowledge him and continued towards the lift. “Rose! Rose, will you just wait?!” he shouted as he grabbed her arm. She immediately jerked her arm out of his grasp.

“Don’t touch me!” she hissed, repeatedly slamming the button for the lift. She refused to even look in his direction. Rose was so full of rage that she could feel her insides burning. 

John was undeterred. “Rose, will you just talk to me? Tell me what’s wrong!” he pleaded. At that word, she rounded on him. John took a step back at the intense fury he saw in her eyes. 

“What’s wrong?! You use me and my family and you _dare_ ask me what’s wrong?!” she growled and then turned back towards the lift. “God, what’s takin’ this bloody thing so long?! Where’s the bleedin’ stairs?” she said as she banged on the lift doors and then looked around for said stairs. 

“Rose, you’re not making any sense. ROSE?!” John shouted, trying to gain her attention. 

She spun around again at him, eyes still ablaze. “I’m not makin’ sense? _I'm_ not makin’ sense?” she asked, raising her voice with each word. 

“Are you going to just yell questions at me in the hallway or are you going to start acting like an adult and explain what all this is about?” he spat out, his own frustration reaching the boiling point.

Rose drove a finger into his chest. “Don’t call me a child!”

“Then don’t _act_ like one! This is ridiculous…I don’t know what this is about, but we are _not_ doing this here,” John growled, grabbing her hand and dragging her back to his flat, Rose jerking and smacking at him the entire way. Once she was through the door, he slammed it shut and leaned against it, blocking her exit.

“Ya can’t keep me here!” she shouted, pacing the living room in angry agitation and threading her fingers through her hair, her jacket hanging off her shoulder.

“I’m not moving ‘til you explain what’s going on and why you slapped me,” John said determinedly, keeping his post in front of the door.

She stopped and looked at him squarely. “You deserve a heck of a lot more than a slap.”

John pushed himself off the door but still stood guard. “What’s gotten into you? Would you try explaining for once?!”

“YOUR BOOK!” she hollered. John paled at her reply. _How could she possibly…_

His reaction wasn’t lost on Rose, no matter how blinded she was by anger. “See—you _do_ know what I’m talkin’ about!”

John took a step towards her but she quickly backed away, every inch of her radiating “stay away!”

“H-how…who…” 

“Yvonne,” Rose spat. “She came into the shop today. Said she was sorry for my ‘tragedy and pain’ and how much I’ve been through. Said your book was about everythin' that’s happened to me.”

“You believe Yvonne?” John asked incredulously. “You believe my spoiled, unstable ex-girlfriend, who you knew all of…what, fifteen minutes? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“You tellin’ me that’s not what your book’s about?” Rose challenged. 

“No…yes…God, it’s not that simple!” he said, tugging at his hair. 

“You used _me_! You used my _family_! All because you weren’t smart enough to come up with an idea on your own!” 

John’s eyes became filled with anger. “Used you?! You're seriously going to stand there and accuse me of using you all? You think that everything was a lie—some sort of act to get what I wanted?”

Rose threw her hands up. “What do you expect me to think, after-..."

“After what?” he cut her off. “After coming to the shop almost every day just to talk to you—to see your face? Spending time with Tony? Sitting by your hospital bed through the night and praying that you’d come back to me? You mean after all of that?” John was starting to tremble at the effort it took to control the storm brewing inside of him.

Rose wasn’t backing down so easily. “Don’t try an' pretend like you care about me!”

“Pretend?! Seriously?! Are you…after everything…,” John was quickly losing the ability to make coherent sentences, rage and frustration coursing through his veins. He began to pace, but then he stopped and looked up, his eyes boring into her. “This is the perfect excuse for you, isn’t it?”

Rose's eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she said, “What’s that s’posed to mean?!”

He moved towards her, his eyes never breaking contact. “It means this gives you a reason to run away again!”

“Run from what?” she spat out.

“From me…from us!” he shouted, motioning between them. His patience was hurriedly reaching the brink.

“There is no ‘us.'”

“And whose fault is that?!” he shouted, finally done containing his feelings, finally at the breaking point. “Who’s the one who’s been holding back the entire time? The one who refuses to be happy? ‘Cause it’s _definitely_ _not_ me!”

Rose just stared at him, unable to speak. John took advantage of her momentary silence. “I wasn’t hiding anything. I was going to tell you about the book, soon actually. You wanna know why I didn’t tell you about it immediately? Because I thought that after everything we’ve been through, after all you knew about me, that you would give me the benefit of the doubt. That you wouldn’t assume the worst in me, in what I was doing. But, you don’t even _want_ to consider that I had good intentions! Because it’s easier for you to push me away instead of actually working through something! It’s easier for you to run!”

At that statement, Rose lunged forward and shoved him. “Ya don’t know anythin’,” she snapped.

“I know plenty! You think you’re the only one to know what it’s like to lose someone? You think you’re the only authority on pain? My parents died when I was three. I never got to know them. All I have are pictures and people telling me how much I remind them of my father or how Donna looks like my mother. You think that it doesn’t hurt that I can’t remember them? That I’ll never know them? Or are you the only one who’s allowed to have those emotions?”

“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” Rose said, her voice softening just slightly. “I never said you haven’t felt pain. But, it’s different. You’ve never watched someone ya love die in front of you. To see 'em fade right before you and know there’s nothin' you can do can stop it. You have no idea what that’s like!” she choked out, tears strangling her voice.

“I know _exactly_ what that’s like.”

“How’s that?” she dared.

“Because I watched _YOU_ die!” John shouted, his voice overcome with unrestrained emotion. He saw the fire in her eyes fade at his revelation. “I was sitting next to you, holding onto your hand, and just like that you were gone. I helped drag Martha out of the room as she screamed for you. I could still hear her screams for hours afterwards. I could feel my heart stop as I watched them pound on your chest, trying to bring you back. And I…I couldn’t do anything! All I could do was watch and pray to God that you wouldn’t leave us…that you wouldn’t leave me. So, I understand _perfectly_ what it’s like to watch someone I love die!”

The reality of what he had just admitted hit Rose full force. She wasn’t prepared for it and was at a loss for what to do next.

“Th-this…this doesn’t change what you did,” she replied, her anger still present but quickly weakening into uncertainty. 

John rubbed his face and took a deep breath, desperately trying to rein himself in. “You don’t even know what I really did. You just assume you do.”

“I know enough.”

“No, you only know what you _want_ to know. You don’t want to know the whole truth, because if you did, then you wouldn’t be able to keep pushing me away,” he said, his frustration starting to climb again.

“And why would I wanna push you away?”

“Because you _love_ me!” he said, looking straight at her, his eyes intense and brimming with emotions too numerous to mention. 

Rose’s breathing stopped at his answer and the emotions accompanying it. This was a reality that she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. She couldn’t deny it, but she still couldn’t embrace it. John took another step closer to her so that now there was only an arm’s length between them. However, he made no attempt to touch her. Instead he continued, “You love me…and that…that terrifies you. I don’t know why, but it does. I don’t think _you_ even know exactly why, but you still let it hold you back.” 

Rose broke her eyes away and turned her gaze downwards. There was no arguing what he had just said—every word was true and it shamed her. 

John still wasn’t finished. “Rose…I want you...to be with you…I _need_ to be with you. I don’t feel...complete without you. You make me better. And not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. That I don’t wonder what you’re doing or wish I could be with you. I know you're scared–-you told me so that night outside that night in the rain; but I know you want to be with me, too…so why…why are you still fighting it?’’ His voice was desperate, pleading for her to surrender. 

Words ceased and they remained motionless as the dust settled. Neither knew where to go from there. So much had transpired—both spoken and unspoken—and yet, there they were, still unable or unwilling to proceed further.   
  
It was Rose who broke the standoff, sidestepping John and making her way to the door. John called out to her, but to no avail. He finally willed his feet to move, to go after her. Not seeing her in the hallway, he ran down the stairs and out the front of his building. He looked around frantically, but it was no use—Rose was gone.

 

 

 

 


	22. Chapter Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long portion of italics is a flashback.
> 
> Take It On Faith--Natalie Maines

By the time Rose had returned home that night, everyone was already in bed—something for which she was incredibly grateful. All Rose had told Martha was that she had to take care of something and that she would be back before too long. At the time, Martha didn’t ask any questions, but Rose knew for a certainty that she would be asked about it later on. When she had arrived home, Rose hastily made her way up the stairs to her room, and immediately locked her door. Very rarely did she lock her door, but she didn’t want to take the chance that Martha would walk in suddenly and ask her about what she had been up to that evening. Rose had neither the desire nor the energy to explain what had happened. 

Rose lay in her bed, staring out into the darkness. Even though she was thoroughly exhausted, sleep evaded her. She had never understood how silence could be deafening–until now. As she lay there on her side, the harsh words and truths of that night continued to turn over in her mind. The quietness of the room only served to make the memories louder. The words however were not as powerful as the emotions that had been conveyed. Those washed over her with so much intensity that she found it hard to breathe at times. 

_He loves me..._

That fact ignited something within her that she didn't know existed. John’s feelings were no longer a vague thought in the back of her mind or an unacknowledged hope. No, now they were out in the open. They were out there just waiting for her to take hold of them. Now, it was up to her whether or not she would. She couldn’t stand lying there any longer; it was stifling, and she had to get away. It was still a couple hours before Martha would have to get up to open the shop. She quietly made her way down the stairs and out of the house. Once outside, she just started walking with no particular destination in mind. Before long, she found herself at the park she and John had taken Tony to a few weeks prior. Seeing the swings, she went over and sat down in one. As she moved faintly back and forth, she laid her head against the chain and was taken back to that memory of her and her father so many years ago.

 

_“I’m not doin’ it!” Rose said, arms crossed and stomping her foot in defiance._

_Pete Tyler looked at his little girl and then bent down to her level._

_“Sweetheart, you can’t let a lil’ fall scare you forever. Y’have to be brave.”_

_“But it wasn’t a lil’ fall! It was a big fall! The biggest! And it hurt—see?” she said, showing her hands and then lifting up her denims to show the scabbed over cuts and bruises on her knees and legs._

_Pete took her hands in his and kissed her scratches. His eyes were warm and full of love as he said, “I know it hurt, love. But just because it hurt, doesn’t mean ya give up. Ya gotta keep goin’.”_

_Rose kicked the gravel at him and shouted, “NO! I hate the swings! I’m never getting on ‘em again! NEVER EVER!”_

_Pete stood himself up straight and looked down at her, contemplating what move to make next. In one swift movement, he picked her up and put her down on the seat. When he stepped back, she immediately slid off the seat._

_“Rose Marion Tyler. You put your bottom back on that seat. Right now,” he instructed her, his voice now firm._

_Tears filled Rose’s eyes as she looked up at him pleadingly. “Daddy…please don’t make me do it.”_

_His eyes softened but he didn’t waver in his decision. Seeing the expression on her father’s face, Rose sat back down in the seat._

_“Ok now, love—start swinging.”_

_A tear ran down her cheek as she started to swing gently back and forth._

_He smiled wide at her. “There ya go, sweetheart. Keep going!” he encouraged._

_As each moment passed without injury, Rose felt her confidence rising. She began to swing higher, feeling her former joy returning._

_“Look, Daddy!” she squealed._

_His smile broadened. “Good job! See—everythin’s okay.”_

_She continued to swing enthusiastically, giggling in delight._

_“Alright now, love…I want ya to jump off like ya did last time.”_

_The fear returned to her eyes. “But…but I’ll get hurt again!”_

_“You don’t know that. Plus, I’ll be here to catch you.”_

_“But you might drop me!” she said fearfully, her little hands gripping the chains as if she were hanging on for dear life._

_Pete’s eyes softened as he looked at his little girl, fear etched in every part of her face. “Ya have to trust me, love. Now…jump!”_

_She swung back and forth a few more times, before closing her eyes and letting herself go in midair. Seconds later, she found herself in her father’s strong arms. She immediately opened her eyes and looked at him, surprise evident._

_“Ya caught me!”_

_He smiled at her. “I told ya I would,” he said, kissing her forehead. Looking her in the eyes again, he said, “Sometimes you’re gonna fall and get hurt. And when that happens, you’re gonna want to quit. But remember—you’ve got to get up, keep goin’. Y’can’t be afraid to fall.”_

 

Rose emerged from her memories and wiped the tears that had unconsciously fallen. The sunlight began to break through the early morning fog. She checked her phone; it was still early, but she decided against waiting—she had done too much of it already. She looked for the number and hit _Call_. She could tell the phone was about to go to voicemail, but then a very groggy voice answered. 

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, Calleigh—it’s Rose. I need a favor…”

oOo oOo oOo

Jack was at his desk catching up on some manuscripts that he had been putting off reading. He had a sixth sense about these things, and based on the few pages he had read, he could tell they weren’t going to impress. He was unexpectedly disrupted by a knock on his door, followed by his assistant, Anne, popping her head through the door. 

“Mr. Harkness?”

“Need something, Anne?” he said with a small smile. 

“There’s a Rose Tyler here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment, but she says that she’s here to pick up a manuscript you have for her,” she said, her tone hesitant and questioning. 

Jack had no manuscript to give to Rose, but he was a smart man—he knew to what she was referring.

“Thanks, Anne. You can send her in.”

Anne opened the door, allowing Rose to enter the office. Rose gave her a smile and brief nod in thanks. Jack stood as Rose approached him. He couldn’t read her expression which, in his experience with women, was not a good sign. 

“Hello Rose. Pull up chair,” he said, motioning to the ones in front of his desk. “You want something to drink?”

She shook her head as she sat down. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Jack let out the breath he had been holding. “It’s always great to see you Rose, but you and I both know that this is in no way a social call. So…do you wanna awkwardly chitchat or should we just get to why you’re really here?”

She gave him a smile that didn’t fully reach her eyes. “You’re right. Its not. I…I want John’s manuscript.”

He’d had the sneaking suspicion that her visit was about that. “He finally told you about, huh?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “Not…not exactly.”

Jack furrowed his brow questioningly, causing Rose to clarify. “Yvonne told me about it.”

Jack swore under his breath. He wasn’t sure how that guttersnipe knew about Rose and the manuscript, but he could just imagine how she had manipulated the situation. Looking up at her with apologetic look, he said, “Rose…I can’t just give it to you.”

Her face hardened slightly. “Jack…it really wasn't a request.”

“Rose-...," he started, but she cut him off.

“It’s the least ya can do. I have a right to know what’s in it—after all, it’s about me.” There was no anger in her voice, only determination.

Jack sighed and looked down pensively. 

“Jack…please…”

He looked up and met her eyes. He could see her pain, could see and hear her pleading. Taking a breath, he moved his chair back and opened a desk-drawer. He pulled out a fairly thick stack of papers held together with a metal clip and wrapped with a rubber-band. He handed it over to her.

Rose took it in her hands and stared down at it for a moment. “Thank you,” she said, her voice small and slightly broken. Looking up, she gave him a weak smile and headed towards the door. 

“By the way,” Jack called out to her, causing her to stop and glance back at him. “It’s not so much _about_ you, as it is _for_ you. Just remember that.”

oOo oOo oOo

Martha was waiting for Rose to come in any time now. She had gone to bed before Rose had gotten home and she was anxious to talk to her. Martha had wanted to see her before she left to open, but she had been running late and decided she would just talk to Rose when she came in later. She had only spoken with Rose over the phone, but Martha could definitely tell that something was very off with her.  It was approaching noon and Rose was due any time. The door opened and Calleigh walked in. Martha assumed she was there to order something, but that idea was discarded when Calleigh came behind the counter and put her bag down. 

“What’s goin’ on, Calleigh?” Martha asked quizzically. 

“Nothin’ much. You?” Calleigh asked nonchalantly as she put an apron around her waist. 

“No, I mean, why are you here? You aren’t scheduled to work today.”

Calleigh looked at Martha and crinkled her brow in confusion. “Rose called. She asked if I could cover her shifts while she was out of town. She’s leaving today, right?"

Martha had absolutely no clue what was happening, but she did not have a good feeling about it. 

“She said she was goin’ outta town? Did she say where?” Martha asked worriedly.

Calleigh looked at her, clearly concerned about the situation. She spoke hesitantly. “No…she didn’t say anythin’ about that. She just called me early this morning and said she was gonna be gone for a few days and asked if I could cover for her. You…you mean you didn’t know?” 

Suddenly filled with uneasiness, Martha was already calling Rose on her mobile before Calleigh had even finished her question. She looked at Calleigh. “No…no, I didn’t,” she said, her voice calm but her eyes clearly worried. 

The phone rang repeatedly before finally going to voicemail. Martha let out a frustrated breath and dialed again.

“C’mon Rose…”

Finally, there was an answer.

_“Hello?”_

“Rose,” Martha said in a voice that teetered on shouting, “Where are you?!”

oOo oOo oOo

_“Where are you?!_

Rose took a steadying breath. “I’m…I’m fine, Martha. I just needed some time…time to think…”

Martha became indignant. “That’s _not_ what I asked. Tell me where you are. Or tell me what’s goin’ on. I can help you.”

“You can’t this time, Mar. I…I have to do this on my own,” she said softly.

“Ro…”

“I’ll call later and let ya know how I am. I gotta go. I love ya,” she said and quickly turned off her mobile. She didn’t want to deal with the constant ringing and messages. She had let Martha know she was safe and she would check in, but other than that, she needed to be away from the epicenter of everything. She went to the only place she could think of where no one would think to look. Rose nervously approached the door and knocked. After a few moments, the door opened.  

“Hello, Harriet.”

 

 

 

 

 


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep Holding On–Avril Lavigne

John had phoned Rose at least a half dozen times with no answer. The first few times it rang repeatedly until finally going to voicemail. When he had tried later on, it only rang twice before going straight to voicemail. He knew she must be ignoring his calls, a fact which, oddly, gave him a small measure of comfort. If she was ignoring him, it at least meant she was alive. He didn’t like this situation—not one bit. It had too many parallels to that horrible night. 

John was torn about everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. Things had been progressing, albeit rather slowly. That afternoon at the shop, he had known, with absolute certainty, that things would have reached a turning point had not Martha come in suddenly.   
  
And then in an instant, everything had gone pear shaped. They had fought—a fight that made all previous disagreements pale in comparison. The words needed to be said, the feelings to be conveyed. But again, Rose had run, and even though this time he had gone after her, he still couldn’t catch her.   
  
Despite all of that, he was not going to let her run away from him. John had seen the look in her eyes when he had admitted that he loved her—better yet, he'd seen the look in her eyes when he had declared that she loved him. He had been right—Rose did love him. She just couldn’t admit it to him or herself.

After rising late, thanks to a fitful night’s sleep, John made his way to the shop. He knew that Rose would more than likely be there. When he walked in, he saw Martha on her phone and pacing by the far back wall, clearly agitated. He saw Calleigh at the espresso machine, occasionally side glancing at Martha. He walked up to Calleigh as a troubled feeling began to build in his stomach. 

“What’s going on?” he asked her, brow furrowed and nodding his head towards Martha.

Calleigh bit the side of her bottom lip, clearly warring with herself as to whether or not to let him in on what was happening. Much to her relief, she didn’t have to—Martha came up to John, clearly upset and confused. 

“Hey,” Martha said to John, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. She kept running her hand over her hair and taking frequent breaths in an obvious attempt to calm herself.

John lightly grabbed her shoulders, causing her to focus on him. “What’s wrong?” he asked calmly, doing his best to both comfort and keep his own feelings in check. 

Martha looked at him, her eyes troubled. Finally, letting loose a breath, she threw her hands up and said, “She’s gone!”

John felt like he had been sucker punched in the stomach. He knew she meant Rose. “What do you mean ‘she’s gone’? Where is she?”

“I don’t know! Don’t ya think if I knew that, I’d be draggin' her bum back here? She didn’t tell any of us anythin’! She called Calleigh early this morning and asked her to cover her shifts. Said she was goin’ outta town—didn’t say where…didn’t say one bleedin’ thing of any use. And when she _finally_ answered her phone, she just said she needed to think. Wouldn’t say where she was or what she needed to think about. I don’t even know where to look! I’ve called everyone I know, checked most of the hotels, and nothin’! I don’t have any bleedin’ clue as to what’s happened or gotten into her!”

John ran a frustrated hand through his hair. The events of last night ragged through his mind, and the possible outcomes that had happened. Martha could see in his eyes that his mind was racing. Something in his manner told her he was holding back something from her.

“What do you know?” she said in a no-nonsense tone, narrowing her eyes. 

He looked at her sideways, a measure of uncertainty in his eyes. “I don’t know anything.”

Martha grabbed his arm forcefully. “John, you have about five seconds to tell me what you know, before I find new uses for that blender over there.” The way she said it made John fairly certain she was serious. 

He rubbed his face with his hands and looked at her. Sighing deeply, he said, “I saw her last night. We…we fought. She ran out. I went after her but couldn’t find her. I honestly don’t know where she is.”

Martha’s confusion was apparent. “What do ya mean ya fought? What could you two possibly have to fight about? Especially after the other night.”

John’s eyebrow quirked upward. “What do you mean?”

She cocked her head to the side, giving him a knowing smirk. “After your lil’ stargazing night…you two kissed, right?”

John could feel a blush slowly spread over him and he turned his gaze downward. He wasn’t aware anyone knew about that. 

Martha continued, “She was all giddy the next morning, all singing and smiles. And then of course, there’s me walkin’ in and interrupting whatever it was you two were about to do.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, by the way,” he sarcastically grumbled. 

Martha grinned in spite of herself. Quickly, she turned her attention back to her original question. “Ya still haven’t answered me. What did you fight about?”

He finally looked back up at her. “She…she found out that I—and when I tell you this, just keep calm and let me explain—she found out that my new book is inspired by her life.”

He immediately saw fire flash in Martha’s eyes and heard Calleigh mutter “pig” under her breath.

Martha let out a shaky breath. “You better start explaining…fast!” she said, crossing her arms. 

John began to pace. “Can we sit down and talk about this?” 

Martha turned on her heels and swiftly moved towards the back sofa. John followed her and again heard Calleigh mutter, although this time he couldn’t quite make out what insult she used. They both sat down on the sofa and Martha turned herself towards him, her fiery eyes burning into him. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the anxiety that was rapidly threatening to take over. 

“John, you’re quickly runnin' outta time before I leap across this sofa and throttle you.”

“Alright, alright. Just…,” he let out a breath, and then continued, “I didn’t _exactly_ write about her life. It was more about her…and what she means…to me.”

“I’m not following.”

John ran his hand through his hair, yet again. _Why is this so hard to explain?_ “It’s about finding what seems impossible. It’s about losing everything but refusing to give up—even when the odds are against you. It’s about finding someone that defines you—that makes you better. And what you’ll fight to be with them.”

He glanced over at Martha, her expression unreadable. He let out a frustrated breath. “I’m doing a crap job of explaining this, aren’t I?”

“No…no, you’re not,” she replied, her voice lacking all previous anger. “So, that’s it? That’s what the fight was about?”

“No…I couldn’t really get a word in edgewise about the book. My…my ex, Yvonne…well apparently, she came in here and told Rose something about me using her and writing her ‘life story.’ Needless to say, she didn’t take it well…at all. She came over to my flat, slapped me and tried to run off. I was able to…to get her back inside my place to talk about things and…well…things were said… _a lot_ of things.”

Martha nodded her head in understanding, obviously still trying to process everything she had just learnt. After a moment, she leaned forward, closed her eyes, and put her head in her hands. 

“I don’t know what to do, John. Me and her…we’ve always been able to get through things together. We’ve always been there for each other. And now…she said I can’t help her this time. That’s never happened before…and I don’t know what to do.”

She looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with tears and begging for an answer. “What am I supposed to do?”

John put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. “Everything’s going to be alright. I’ll find her…I promise.”

oOo oOo oOo

Harriet Noble (nee Jones) had met Rose almost eight years ago, during one of the lowest points in both their lives. Harriet’s mother had been battling cancer for over a year and, due to a dangerously abnormal blood count, had ended up back in the hospital. She had stayed by her mother’s side, trying to remain a pillar of strength for the increasingly frail woman. The oncologist had asked Harriet to step outside the room so they could speak. So many words were spoken, but they all amounted to one simple fact—her mother was dying.   
  
Harriet held her composure through the entire exchange, desperately yearning to be free of this man who had handed her mother a death sentence. When he was finished, he mechanically put a hand on her shoulder and went on his way. She peeked her head into the room, and on seeing her mother asleep, went off to find a quiet place to process. She found the small waiting room and, thankfully, it was empty. She took a seat, placing one arm on the armrest, and burying her face in the palm of her other hand. The tears were silent, but her body racked with each one that fell. 

After a few moments, she felt a hand softly cover her own. Harriet turned her head towards the new presence in the room. Her eyes locked with warm hazel ones. As she broadened her focus, she saw the eyes belonged to a young blonde, who was at most eighteen, dressed in jeans and a pink hoodie. Harriet was surprised that this young girl had taken the initiative to comfort a complete stranger. 

The blonde girl gave Harriet’s hand a brief squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

Harriet gave a faint smile through her tears. “Thank you.”

“I’m Rose.”

“Harriet.”

They mostly sat together in silence, both content to be each other’s comfort. Knowing it was time to rejoin her mother, Harriet again gave her thanks and went to her mother. A few days later, she was on her way to her mother’s room when she noticed the same blonde, Rose, attempting to turn the doorknob on the restroom door. Harriet approached Rose and at once noticed a black brace around her wrist.   
  
At hearing Harriet’s sharp intake of breath, Rose jerked her head upward to see who was beside her, giving Harriet a full view of Rose’s battered face. She could see slight fear in Rose’s eyes and it broke her heart to see that this young woman had been treated so abominably. After some gentle prodding, Harriet was able to get Rose to confide in her what, or rather who, had caused her injuries—some worthless no-account named Jimmy. Even though she hardly knew Rose, Harriet wasted no time in telling her what she should do with “that animal,” with a few of her suggestions eliciting a chuckle from Rose. 

They sat together for a few hours, talking and exchanging their reasons for being there. Harriet told her about her mother, and Rose told her of her father and her family’s current situation. Her father, Pete Tyler, had discovered he had a malignant tumor on his lung and had been undergoing chemotherapy. The mounting costs of his treatment were taking its toll on them. Her mother was pregnant and unable to work enough hours to keep up with the oncoming bills, and Rose confessed she was considering leaving school to help ease their load.   
  
Harriet immediately forbade Rose from doing such a thing, insisting that she had ways of helping her. Before she left to join her mother, Harriet gave Rose her business card and made Rose promise to contact her. 

The next day, Rose called and Harriet arranged to meet with her and her family. Although she had initially butted heads with Jackie Tyler, it wasn’t long before the two women developed a warm relationship. She could see Rose had inherited Jackie’s passion and Pete’s warmth. She spent a good amount of time helping the family, arranging for financial assistance and obstetric and pre-natal care for Jackie.   
  
Fortunately, Pete’s cancer went into remission and the family was able to get their lives back on track. Not too long after that, Jackie gave birth to little Anthony Allen Tyler. Though this was a joyous time for them, it was rather tragic for Harriet—her mother had finally passed. 

Several days after the funeral, Harriet received a modest yet beautiful bouquet of daisies—her mother’s favorite—along with a heartfelt letter of condolences from Rose. Unfortunately, their interaction, through no direct fault of either party, slacked off. Then almost a year later, Harriet read of the tragic accident that had claimed both parents, leaving an orphaned Rose and Tony. She had made sure to attend the funeral, even waiting till everyone else had left so she could talk to Rose.   
  
However, in her grief, Rose had rejected Harriet’s attempts at comfort, demanding to be left alone. She had obeyed, although reluctantly. Harriet had attempted numerous times to contact Rose over the years, but the majority of them went unreturned. But every year, without fail, Harriet would leave flowers on their graves and write to Rose, attempting to reconnect with her—hoping that one day, the young girl, who she had come to care for deeply, would come back.

Harriet and her husband, Wilf, had returned earlier than planned from their holiday. Even though they had thoroughly enjoyed their time away, they both agreed it was time to return home. They were in the midst of settling back in, when a knock was heard. Neither of them had told Donna or John that they were returning early, so Harriet was at a loss as to who could be calling on them. Curiously, she answered the door.

_“Hello, Harriet.”_

Harriet looked in astonishment at the young woman in front of her. She hadn’t seen her in almost six years and, honestly, despite her hopes otherwise, never expected to see her again. 

“Rose? Rose Tyler? Oh for heaven’s sake, child, come in!” she said, opening the door for her to step inside.   
  
Rose picked up her small overnight bag and entered the house. Once inside, Harriet embraced her tightly, only pulling back to smile at her. Rose was still a jumble of nerves, but Harriet’s reaction at seeing her helped to alleviate some of her uneasiness. Harriet motioned for Rose to follow her into the living room.   
  
As she did so, Rose was taken in by the rich décor of the house; it was beautiful, to be sure, but at the same time, it lacked any flashiness or pomp. Harriet sat down on a plush couch and patted the spot next to her, beckoning Rose to join her. She did so.

“Oh, my dear, you haven’t changed at all—still beautiful as ever,” Harriet said as she took Rose’s hand. “Especially now that you don’t wear those horrid bruises anymore,” she said. Her voice was low  and slightly dark as she recalled that past memory of seeing Rose. 

Rose squeezed her hand. “That’s thanks in large part to you. I owe you a lot, actually. You did so much for me…and I—I’ve been complete rubbish at showin’ what it means to me…what you meant to me. I’ve been rubbish at so many things,” she said as her voice cracked and tears threatened to fall. Harriet looked at Rose and could see that she was in a deep amount of pain.

Rose sniffed as she tried to keep her tears at bay. “I’m sorry…so, so sorry. I know I-...I have no right to come here…but…,” Rose finally broke down and sobbed, “I just…I didn’t know where else to go. I always felt…safe with you…I’m sorry…I should leave,” she said, but couldn’t get her feet to listen and instead, continued to shake with sobs. Harriet pulled her into her arms. 

“You stay right where you are, Rose. You are always welcome here and always will be. You wait here. I’m going to make us some tea, and when I get back, you and I are going to have a long talk about what’s troubling you,” she said warmly, and patting Rose’s shoulder, went into the kitchen.   
  
When she had left the room, Rose got up and began looking at the various photos scattered around the room. Harriet and a man, assumedly her husband, mid-dance. Vacation photos. Older child photos, John, D-….  
  
 _wait...John?!_  
  
Shocked, she grabbed the frame and stared at it, her mouth widely agape.   
  
_Why is there a photo of John here?_  
  
She looked around and found another…and another…and then Donna and Jack…they were everywhere. She suddenly remembered John and Donna speaking of “Uncle Wilf and Aunt Harriet,” and she instantly felt the room begin to spin. At that moment, Harriet returned. 

“Rose,” she said worriedly, “are you…are you alright?”

Rose turned to her, her hand still clutching the frame.

“You’re…you’re Aunt Harriet?!” Rose choked out. 

Confused by the odd question, Harriet wrinkled her brow. “I don’t understand.”

Shellshocked, Rose slowly lifted the frame. “You’re John’s aunt?”

“You know John?”

“He’s my…I mean I…,” Rose trailed off, unable to make a logical sentence in her mind, let alone out loud. 

“Rose?” Harriet asked somewhat firmly, trying to bring Rose back to the present. 

“I-I should…I should go…I can’t let ‘im know…not yet…,” Rose said absentmindedly, moving around with no real direction. Harriet grabbed ahold of her gently and turned Rose’s face towards her. 

“Rose, you’re staying right where you are. John and Donna don’t know we’re back yet—no one does, actually. So, there’s no reason for you to not stay here,” Harriet reassured her, but her tone and manner conveyed that she wouldn’t yield to Rose’s desire to leave.

Rose weakly sat down on the couch and looked up at Harriet. “I don’t…I can’t let anyone know where I am right now,” she said, her voice childlike and just above a whisper.

Harriet sat beside her, putting her arm around her. “You can stay here as long as you need—and I’ll make sure Wilf keeps quiet. But if I’m going to do this, you need to be honest with me.”

Rose turned her gaze downward as her tears began to fall. Harriet gently took her chin and tilted Rose's face to meet hers. “Tell me, dear–what are you running away from?”

 


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is completely Rose's reflections.
> 
> Echo--Jason Walker

_“What are you running away from?”_

Hours after Harriet had shown her to the guestroom, that question resonated in her mind. Here this woman, whom she hadn’t seen in six years, could see she was running from something. And it wasn’t just her—everyone could tell she was running, even Rose herself. She had been running this marathon for years and it drained every ounce of energy she had, both physically and emotionally. She was just tired—so very, very tired.   
  
As she sat there on the bed, her legs curled up to her chest and staring at the unopened manuscript, she finally had an answer to Harriet’s question.

_Everything…I’m running from everything._

It was the first time in so long that she had given herself an honest answer. It felt odd to her; after all, denial had been her way of life for so many years. But yet at the same time, it felt right—liberating, actually. Rose continued to stare at that dreaded manuscript. 

She could practically hear Martha’s voice admonishing her, _“Staring at it isn’t gonna change anything, Rose.”_

Even though it was already well into the night, Rose decided it was time. She gingerly picked up the manuscript, almost as if she was afraid its pages would burn her. Slowly, she lowered her legs from her chest and leaned against the headboard. The bedside lamp cast a faint glow into the room, but that was enough for her—she was already facing the harsh light of truth. Rose closed her eyes and let out a steadying breath. With that, she opened to the first page. 

Hours passed, at least Rose assumed it had been hours—she hadn’t been focused on the time. With each passing page, tears began to roll down her cheeks, gaining strength the further she got. They were, in part, the result of the sentiments that reached out of the pages and touched her heart. John’s love and adoration of her radiated from the pages, and began filling the emptiness that had consumed her soul for what seemed like an eternity. The other reason for her tears was due to the shame she felt over the presumptuous and irrational anger with which she had attacked John.   
  
Even as she threw her bitter and hateful words at him, she knew that they were not completely justified. John had been right—it was her perfect excuse. Deep within her soul, she knew that he would never hurt her, but she had refused to acknowledge that truth. Rather, she had clung to that irrational fear that had come to feel so natural to her over the years. She had been hiding behind her wall of protection—a wall she had begun to build after the first time Jimmy had struck her. With each slap, with each bruise, another brick was added. Then when her dad had become sick, she continued to add to that wall. It was a way of distancing herself from the harsh realities that were beginning to become too painful. And after watching her parents die in front of her, after fighting and clawing her way to them in a futile attempt to help them, that wall had finally reached completion.   
  
Nothing was going to hurt her again. She had Mickey, Martha, and Tony, and for years she had been convinced that they were all that she needed—that they were all that mattered. They were her life and allowing anyone else in would just be begging for heartache and pain. 

And then, Rose had met _him_. It was by no means love at first sight—far from it, actually. Oh, make no mistake--she had found John extremely attractive. But at the time, she had been more focused on restraining herself from inflicting bodily harm on him, yet another irrational mindset. When he had implied that she had been negligent with Tony, Rose had almost wished he had physically struck her, because those words inflicted more pain than any literal blow could ever cause. She had thrown him out, incredulous of the fact that this stranger could possibly know anything about her and her family. But, she had put her pride aside and questioned Tony about what had led up to the incident. His answer forced her to acknowledge her error.   
  
Rose had never expected to see John again, let alone receive an apology. She was pleasantly surprised to be wrong. And then on seeing the genuine joy and enthusiasm between John and Tony, she had felt something spark within her—something she hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. Each time she saw him, each conversation they had just fueled that spark. Before Rose could smother that flame, it was already well on its way to becoming a fierce, uncontainable blaze. The way John looked at her, the way he held her hand, the way he held _her_ caused that fire to course through her veins. It was all-consuming. It was exhilarating. It was…terrifying.   
  
That moment on the dance floor, with the music at its crescendo and his eyes dark and raging with emotion, Rose came to the startling realization that the wall she had enclosed around herself had crumbled at her feet. She was exposed like a nerve. Rose couldn’t focus on the completion being with John would bring. All she could focus on was the remote chance that she would once again feel the pain from which she had gone to such great lengths to protect herself. 

Rose's thoughts inevitably went to the kiss they had shared. Rose ghosted her fingertips over her lips, recalling how the feel of his lips had caused a shockwave throughout her entire being. She remembered the building intensity between them. Remembered tearing herself away from what she so desperately wanted— _him_. She recalled the devastation she felt when he suggested she had been leading him on. The words that ensued reminded her of what she was trying to avoid and so she decided to do what she did best—she ran. Ran away from him, ran from herself. 

Then she had awoken in the hospital to John’s tearstained face. She had run, but he had found her. His presence comforted her, almost more than her family’s. Rose had almost confessed how she felt about him. She had been so close, but had twistedly been relieved at the nurse’s intrusion. But, she had decided to try in spite of her natural inclination. And when she had awakened and found herself in his arms that one morning, she had felt almost euphoric. The moments they were together, the touches they shared all stoked that fire within her. She was…happy. And that… _that_ was what Rose found the most terrifying. Because all happiness ends, doesn’t it? And then that wretched woman came into the shop, flashing her false smiles and fake persona. Finding out about John’s novel had infuriated her. Rose never even stopped to think about _asking_ him about it. That fight…she replayed it over and over in her mind. In the clear light of day, she realized the truth of his words and the irrationality of hers. He had been right about _so many_ things.   
  
At the time she couldn’t admit to it. Admitting it would mean she would have to acknowledge it, and that she would have to change it. 

John said he watched her die, a fact which still shook her to the core. Then…then, he admitted that he loved her. And not just that he loved her, but that he _wanted_ her, that he wasn’t _complete_ without her, that he _needed_ her. Then he had confronted her with a fact Rose had refused to acknowledge—that she loved him. __

_And what did I do? I ran…again._

All these things led to her being here—hiding out in the house of John’s surrogate parents--a fact Rose was sure was the Universe’s twisted take on irony. She turned her attention away from her meditations and back to the words on the page. What she read next took her breath away.  


_“She knew the unknown was full of darkness—conscious that pain would more than likely be a certainty. That knowledge caused the breath within her lungs to dissipate. Was this journey worth the risk? She doubted herself—either refusing to acknowledge or unconscious of the strength within her, evidently ignorant of its ferocity. Fear gripped her. Its icy fingers curled around her neck, threatening to suffocate her. In that instant, the memory of his last word to her resurfaced—'always.' It was more than a word. It was a promise. A promise that no matter what tragedy threatened to befall them, no matter what trials the universe had in mind that one thing would remain constant—he would never leave. They would stand together hand in hand, just as it should be. The war within her ceased. The fire within her burned, driving that fear back towards its cowardly abode. With that promise seared into her soul, she flung herself across the void—knowing with absolute certainty that she would find him. That he would be waiting. Always.”_

Rose could feel that her neck and chest were saturated with her tears. She finally realized that the words were for her. John wasn’t drawing attention to her weakness or capitalizing on the trials she had experienced. He was telling her how he saw her—what she was to him, what he was promising to be for her. With that realization, stray tears were no longer sufficient.   
  
Rose hugged the tearstained pages close to her heart, even though the words were already etched within her. At the moment, it was the only way she could think of to be near to him. She curled into herself and sank onto the bed, quiet sobs racking her body till that steady rhythm allowed sleep to finally claim her. __


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I Didn't Have You--Thompson Square

On Saturday morning, Wilfred Noble awoke earlier than usual. While he and Harriet were traveling, they both tended to wake up at their leisure—a refreshing change from the strict schedule he kept at the office. But the events of the past two days had occupied his thoughts and were apparently now affecting his sleep. He quietly and carefully got out of bed so as not to disturb Harriet. He made his way to the kitchen, intending to relax with a good cuppa and periodical. As he entered the kitchen, he saw the young woman whose situation was currently weighing on his mind. She turned and looked at him, appearing slightly surprised at his sudden appearance. 

"I'm sorry Mr. Noble. I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep so I thought I'd make myself a cuppa. Tends to help relax me. I hope you don't mind," Rose said, holding the kettle and appearing a tad worried. 

He smiled warmly at her which seemed to ease her uncertainty. "Of course not, my dear. And none of this 'Mr. Noble' nonsense—it’s Wilf. I'm sure you've heard Harriet holler it enough times since you've been here," he said as he sat down at the table. "Do you mind if I join ya?"

"Of course not!" she said, pouring a cup for both of them and joining him.

"This is heavenly," he said after taking a few sips. 

She grinned at him. "My mum taught me. I've been sworn to secrecy. I was eight, but she practically made me sign my name in blood promising to keep it quiet," she said with a giggle. She then smiled warmly as she realized that this was the first time she had been able to mention her mum without feeling her usual heartache.

Wilf gave a small chuckle himself. He looked at her, making a brief study of her as he saw her expression change. "It's good to see ya smile. Sadness doesn't suit you." 

Rose gave a faint nod. "Doesn't feel too good, either." After a pause, she continued, "I want you both to know how grateful I am that ya lemme stay here. I...I needed it. Needed to clear my head of all the things muckin' about in there." 

Wilf reached his hand across the table and gave hers a slight squeeze. "We're happy to do it. It's just good to see you less troubled. It's been weighing on both of us," he said in earnest. 

"It's been weighing on me, too. For years. And I know it’s gonna sound silly, but now...now I actually feel free," she said, smiling contentedly. 

"Does that mean you'll be going home soon?"

Rose’s expression turned uncertain. “I’m…I’m not sure. I know I should, but I’m nervous. Not ‘bout seein’ my family, but about…,” she trailed off, sure he knew how that sentence was going to end. 

He gave her a soft smile. “Nervous ‘bout seein’ John, are ya?”

Rose gave a small nod. “Yeah…I know I need to, but…I’ve got so much to say ‘n I don’t know where to even start.”

“Well…in my experience, the beginning’s usually best,” he said, giving her a slight chuckle as if the answer was obvious. 

Rose responded in kind. “It’s tryin’ to determine where the beginnin’ is that’s the problem.”

He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. “You’ll figure it out, sweetheart. I have faith in that.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, thankful for his reassurance. She needed all that she could get. 

Wilf sat back and took another sip from his cup. “I think you two will do each other good. From what Harriet’s told me of you, you’re a remarkable young lady, and John would be lucky to have you. Of course, you’d be lucky to have ‘im, too. But then again, I’m quite partial,” he said with a broad grin. 

Rose couldn’t help but mirror him. “What was he like…as a kid?” she asked, leaning forward and eagerly awaiting Wilf’s response. 

“Wild,” he said in complete seriousness. Rose had expected as much and couldn’t help but giggle. 

“ _Nooo_ …not _John_ ,” she said in mock disbelief before bursting into another round of giggling.

“Wild is putting it rather mildly. One time—I think he was ‘bout fifteen—he tried ‘improving’ Donna’s hairdryer. Mind you, he neglected to mention that to her. Well, turns out his ‘improvements’ messed up the heating something-or-other. Went off like a sparkler when Donna turned it on. Thankfully, she didn’t have it aimed at her head at the time. She turned as red as her hair and started chasing him through the house. She got ‘em back later, though—glued glitter onto all of his Converses,” he said as his earlier chuckle turned into full on laughter. Rose couldn’t help but join in after the mental image that anecdote created. They spent the next hour exchanging stories, both of them continuing to laugh to the point Rose could feel her side starting to ache. It wasn’t too long before Harriet came downstairs, wrapped in a fuzzy dressing gown and still wiping the sleep from her eyes. She sat down in the chair next to Wilf. Rose promptly got up and poured her some tea.

Harriet smiled her thanks. “You two seem to be having an awfully good time considering how early it is.”

Wilf put his arm around her, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and smiled, saying, “Just givin’ Rose here a glimpse of what her children will be like.”

Rose’s eyes widened and she felt herself blush from head to toe. Harriet frowned and backhanded his chest.

Wilf smiled at her, completely oblivious, and continued, “It’ll be nice having lil’ ones running around here again. We’re not getting any younger, y’know.”

Rose’s blush turned into a brilliant crimson and she was certain the temperature in the room had risen at least ten degrees.

“Yes, well, you’re not going to get any _older_ if you don’t hush,” Harriet warned him.

“I think I’m gonna go shower,” Rose said, eager to remove herself from this slightly uncomfortable and extremely premature conversation. She hurriedly left the kitchen and practically sprinted up the stairs. Harriet turned her face towards her husband, looking at him crossly. 

“What?” he asked in complete ignorance.

Harriet just rolled her eyes and took another sip of her tea.

oOo oOo oOo

John was exhausted. Two days—he had spent two whole days tirelessly searching for Rose. The search wouldn’t have been as tiring if he had been able to sleep through the night. But concern and longing for Rose had made sleep a virtual impossibility. He had gone to almost every hotel, called all the numbers Martha gave him again, and tried to discretely question their neighbors for any useful information. And after all of his endeavors, he was still no closer to finding Rose. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her sudden departure, but his belief in her kept him hopeful. 

John woke up late morning, something that was beginning to be a habit of late. He shuffled into the kitchen, still rather groggy, and made himself a cup of coffee. He decided to check in with Mickey and Martha and see if there was any news. He picked up his mobile and dialed. After a few rings, Mickey answered.

_”Hey John.”_

“Hey Mickey. How’s everyone?”

_“We’re alright, I guess. I’m tryin’ to be patient and not beat on every door ‘til I find her. Martha…she’s still pretty down. But Tony’s okay. Thankfully, he didn’t question too much when we told ‘im Rose was ‘outta town.’”_

“Has she called or anything?” Even though his messages had gone unreturned, John was hopeful that she had at least let _them_ know she was alright.

_“All we’ve gotten the past two nights is a text lettin’ us know she loves us all and that she’s safe. Goes straight to voicemail every time we try to call her. You had any luck?”_

John let out a wearied sigh. “Nothing yet. I’m honestly out of ideas.”

There was a brief pause before Mickey continued, _“As much as I hate to say it, maybe we just have to wait ‘till she decides to come back.”_

John closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t bring himself to agree with Mickey. He decided to ignore the statement altogether.  
  
“Let me know if anything changes?”

 _“’Course. Talk to ya later.”_

John leaned against the counter as his mind pondered over every event that had happened recently. He was pulled from his thoughts when his mobile rang. He answered without looking at the Caller ID.

“Hello?”

 _“John? You sound half-asleep,”_ came Donna’s voice.

“That’s because I am,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

 _“I’m guessing you haven’t found Rose yet,”_ she said, her voice soft and lined with concern.

"No…still nothing. She’s sent a couple texts to Mickey and Martha letting them know she was alright. Other than that, none of us can get ahold of her.”

He heard Donna give a soft sigh. _“Well, at least you know that she's safe.”_

“Yeah,” John replied weakly.

Donna could hear the loss and weariness in his voice and attempted to comfort him. _  
  
“She’ll be back soon, John. I’m certain of it_.”  
  
She genuinely believed that but she knew her reassurance would probably do little to comfort him at this moment. 

“Can we change the subject, please?”

_“Sorry…I actually called to tell you Uncle Wilf and Aunt Harriet are back.”_

John wrinkled his brow. “I thought they weren’t coming back for another week.”

_“They weren’t, but apparently lazing about on the beach and such lost its appeal. She called earlier this morning and let me know they were back. So, we’re going to surprise them with a 'Welcome Home' dinner.”_

“Well, have fun.”

_“I said 'we'—that includes you.”_

John sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them; he just didn’t feel like going anywhere. “Donna, I’m tired and I just w-…”

She cut off his protest, her tone brooking no refusal. _“John, we haven’t seen them in almost two months. You’re coming. It’s not up for discussion.”_

“Fine,” he grumbled, not having the energy to argue the subject. 

He could practically hear her satisfied smile as she answered, _“Good. We’ll pick you up at six.”_

oOo oOo oOo

John remained quiet for the majority of the ride, despite Jack and Donna’s best attempts to draw him out. They finally reached Wilf and Harriet’s. As usual, they entered without knocking and looked around for Wilf and Harriet as they made their way further into the house. On hearing them, Harriet walked out of the living room and was immediately greeted with hugs from all three of them. They all went back into the living room where Wilf was sitting in a wingback and reading. At seeing them, his eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise, and Harriet, too, appeared slightly uncomfortable with their presence, though she tried to hide it with a smile. 

“What brings you all here?” Wilf said as he stood to greet them.

“We’ve come to wine and dine you two,” Jack said as he flashed a brilliant grin at them.

Harriet let out an uneasy laugh. “That’s very kind, but as much as we’d like to, we can’t this evening.”

Harriet and Wilf’s odd behavior was not lost on the three of them. John and Jack exchanged confused and questioning glances, while Donna just looked annoyed.

Donna crossed her arms, and raising an eyebrow, asked, “What’s goin’ on? Why are you two actin’ so strange?”

Harriet mimicked Donna’s stance. “There’s nothing going on, Donna.”

Donna wasn’t so easily convinced. “Pull the other one,” she snorted. 

Wilf gave her a somewhat stern look. “Hey now, none of that! We just have company staying with us is all.” 

John finally spoke up, “You’ve been back all of two days. Who could you possibly have staying with you?”

“Me,” came a soft yet familiar voice from behind them. All eyes turned instantly to see Rose standing in the doorway.


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so difficult to get just right, so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> I Won't Give Up--Jason Mraz

The room was unnervingly quiet—so much so, that it was virtually possible to hear every breath taken. Everything was at a standstill as everyone tried to process Rose’s unexpected appearance and the implications it brought. All eyes were still focused on Rose, especially John’s. His mind was raging with so many questions, but he was unable to voice any of them. All he could do was breathlessly utter one word.

“Rose…” 

“Hello,” she said, her voice hovering just above a whisper. 

Harriet finally broke away from her spot and walked over to Rose. “I’m sorry, Rose. I assure you, I didn’t know they were coming over this evening,” she said worriedly as she placed her hand gently on Rose’s shoulder. 

That action was all it took to break the stalemate and start everything into motion. 

“What do you mean? Could one of you tell us just what exactly is goin’ on?” Donna demanded. She looked over at John, completely at a loss over his silence. He was uncharacteristically still and just continued to stare at Rose, almost as if he didn’t quite believe that she was really there. 

“I-I’ve…well, that is…,” Rose attempted to explain, but her gaze was so fixated on John that she found it almost impossible to articulate anything of any sense. She could see the questions behind his eyes, but at the same time, his expression was indecipherable. It was that uncertainty that worried her. Fortunately, Harriet came to her aid as she continued to fumble her words.

“Like I said before, there’s nothing going on. Rose simply needed somewhere to stay for a few days and we were more than happy to help her.”

“You’ve been staying _here_? With my family?” John asked, finally finding his voice. He reluctantly broke his gaze from Rose and turned his attention to Harriet and Wilf, his expression and voice tinged with anger as he said, “And you didn’t think to tell anyone? To tell me?”

“It wasn’t our place to tell anyone anythin’,” Wilf answered firmly. He could see the emotions within John building. Wilf glanced at Rose and could see in her eyes that her own turmoil was deepening at the direction events were taking. His heart went out to both of them—clearly, this wasn’t the reunion either of them had anticipated.

John scrubbed his face and scoffed, “Not your place? You thought it was your bloody place to hide her from everyone. “

Harriet narrowed her gaze at her nephew. “John, I don’t care how old you are—you watch your tone! This wasn’t some elaborate plan. We didn’t go about trying to deceive anyone, so you need to calm down befor-..." 

“Calm down?!” Donna shrilled. 

Jack put a hand on her shoulder. “Donna, stay out of it,” he said firmly. 

She whirled around on him. “Don’t tell me to stay out of it! He’s spent the past two, almost three days, runnin’ himself ragged trying to find her, and here they-..."

“This situation has nothin’ to do with you, Donna,” Wilf said, looking at her squarely.

“Didn’t have anythin’ to do with you either, but that didn’t stop you from meddlin’,” Donna spouted hotly.

Harriet moved towards Donna, pointing an admonishing finger at her. “You listen here, young lady-..."

“I will _not_! I’m not a child and I will say what I want! Do you know how…”

The argument continued to escalate as the four of them continued to argue about who should have told whom what and why not, and so forth. None of them noticed when John went over to Rose, and taking her hand, left the house.

oOo oOo oOo

They had been walking for well over fifteen minutes, and John had yet to say anything. Not one single word. His uncharacteristic silence unsettled Rose. The only comfort she had was that, in all that time, he had not let go of her hand. He held it tightly, almost as if he was afraid loosening his grip would cause her to disappear yet again. When he had first made to leave the house, Rose was terrified that he was going to sail past her and leave without a word.   
  
She wouldn’t have blamed him if he had—after all, she herself had done that very thing to him. But when John grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers, she felt that fearful tension release its hold on her. Now here they were, aimlessly walking hand in hand with so much to say between them, and yet neither one of them doing anything about it. From somewhere within her, a well-hidden courage slowly emerged and broke the silence.

“H-how…how angry are you?” 

Her words brought them to a halt. John turned his gaze to her. His eyes held so much, but still he remained silent. Rose held his gaze, her own eyes pleading for him to say something…anything. He turned his eyes forward and exhaled softly. His eyes then trailed down to their joined hands, causing him to smile. He tugged on her hand, motioning for them to continue walking. Rose felt certain that this was the worst form of torture. She was finally ready to talk things through, and yet it seemed that he had no desire to broach the issue between them. The irony was not lost on her.   
  
As they continued to walk, she realized that their surroundings were becoming familiar—they were nearing Tony’s school, and she saw John leading her into the little park they had sat in and eaten chips.

Rose couldn’t help the smile that started to curl at her lips. “Did you plan on comin’ here?”

He glanced at her before looking around at the darkened park. “Honestly? No. I just started walking…and then I saw this…” Again he went silent, remaining fixed in place. 

Rose was too full of nervous energy to just stand there idly next to him. Very reluctantly, she released her hand from John’s and hesitantly began to walk forward. She forwent the bench, instead choosing the emotional comfort of the swings. She sat down and swayed gently, her feet anchored in the gravel and her gaze firmly directed downward. This was not how she imagined their reunion playing out.  
  
_Any other time y’cant get two words in edgewise…_  
  
Rose couldn’t handle the silence any longer and said the first random thing that came to mind.

“Never realized Harriet lived this close to the shop.” 

John bristled at the mention of Harriet and Rose knew instantly she had spoken unwisely. He finally walked over to her, taking the swing next to her. They sat there for a few moments, faintly swaying in silence. 

After what felt like an eternity, John turned to look at her and spoke. “Why did you do it?”

She knew what he meant. “I…I needed some time.”

“For what?”

“I needed to…to think about…,” she trailed off, still unsure of how to go about saying things.

“About what?” John pressed, desperate to understand.

“About…everythin',” she sighed.

His eyes saddened at her words. “And you couldn’t do that at home? Where I could at least have had the peace of mind knowing where you were?”

She shook her head at his questions. “No. I knew if I stayed, I would never truly allow myself to be honest about things…never allow myself to be honest about how I felt…'bout you. I had to take a step back.” She felt tears prickling her eyes, but she held them back. It was too early in the game to break down.

“So…you ran away to my aunt? How does that help anything? How do you even know her?”

She could hear the building frustration of uncertainty in John's voice. Rose let out another steadying sigh, knowing she had to be completely honest if this was ever going to work. “I didn’t know she was your aunt at the time. I met her years ago, when my dad was in hospital. I saw her cryin’ and I went over to her, just to sit with her. She looked so…so broken.”

Rose glanced up at John as she said this, hoping to gauge what he was feeling. She could see his eyes had gone soft and warm. It gave her the encouragement to go on.

“I saw her by chance at the hospital a few days later. She came up behind me…scared the life outta me. She saw…she saw my face, what happened…,” Rose trailed off, her body tensing as she remembered how she had 'earned' those bruises Harriet had seen. 

John furrowed his brow, confused as to what she was saying, but at the same time, having a nagging suspicion as to what she could mean.

Rose couldn’t bring herself to look at him as she spoke. “Jimmy had…he didn’t just rough me up. H-he…he beat me. Usually could hide the bruises with makeup, but this time…it wasn’t….,” she let out a ragged breath as the tears began to fall, “it wasn’t enough. Harriet saw ‘em, saw the brace on my wrist…and she…she helped me.”

Rose looked up at him and could see his eyes coal black with rage. She remembered how he had looked when she had told him she was knocked around; so she wasn’t surprised to see this level of anger after admitting the abuse was deeper than she had let on. Rose forced herself to push through the emotions building and continue her explanation.

“She helped my family, too. Helped us out with dad’s treatment. Made it so I didn’t have to leave school. I hadn’t seen her in years…not since…not since my parents’ funeral. Pushed her away…but then, when all this happened, I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. I had her address from all the letters she’d sent me. I remembered how safe she made me feel, and I knew no one would think to look for me there. I swear I never knew she was your aunt. Not ‘til the night I showed up and saw your picture,” she said in earnest.

When Rose looked at him, she could see John believed her, causing her to let out a relieved breath. 

“You never answered me from earlier…how angry are you?” Rose was anxious for his answer. There were so many possible outcomes for this scenario, and the unknown made her physically ill with worry.

John’s eyes locked with hers for a brief moment before turning forward and he began running a hand through his hair. She could tell he was weighing what exactly to say. After what again seemed like ages, he turned back to her and answered.

“I’m…I’m not angry. To be honest, I’m not sure what I am. I’m relieved that you’re okay. I went _everywhere_ trying to find you. Couldn’t sleep. Called everyone I could. Drove your neighbors completely mental trying to find you. Pretty sure they think I’m some kinda stalker.”

Rose couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“I just…I just wish you’d talk to me. _Really_ talk to me…let me in. Just…help me understand why you keep running from me. _Please_.” His eyes pleaded more than his words ever could. 

Rose held his gaze, tears once again fighting to break free. She hesitantly raised her hand, hesitating briefly before finally giving in and cupping his cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb. She heard his breath catch and saw his eyes widen at her gesture. She gave him a small smile, and then, slowly removed her hand, never breaking her gaze. She saw his disappointment at the loss of her touch. 

“I’m not good at this…obviously,” she said as she gave a soft yet harsh laugh. “I’ve never…never really let anyone in. And I’m not talking about Mick or Martha, or even Tony. It's different with them…they're family. Wasn’t always like that. See, Jimmy was the first serious boyfriend I’d had and when he……well, I got good at protectin’ myself. That kinda pain is hard to get over…and I cou—,” her voice broke as her tears began to fall, “I couldn’t even think about lettin’ anyone near me again. I’ve not had the easiest life…and I’m not trying to use that as an excuse…honestly 'm not. It’s just that…when y’feel so much pain, ya try to find a way to deal with it. You go with whatever makes the pain go away…or at least, what makes it hurt less. Mine is… _was_ keeping everyone away.”

Unable to tolerate the loss of her touch any longer, John reached over and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Rose looked at their joined hands, then back at him. A few more tears fell as she gave a small squeeze and smiled at him. She knew she had to keep going—she had to tell him everything while her courage was still going strong.

“When…after Mum and Dad died…I shut down. I know I did...but I didn’t care. I focused on takin’ care of Tony, takin' care of Mickey and Martha. I couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ let anyone else near me…not truly. I mean, I have a few friends, but not anyone really close. I don’t really share anythin' of value with anyone. Much better at takin' care of people than being taken care of. But…,” she trailed off. What she had to say next involved him and it still frightened her a little.

John gave her hand a slight squeeze and smiled, trying to encourage her. “But what?”

Rose let out another steadying breath and focused downward, afraid she’d lose her nerve if she looked at him. “But…when…when I met you, it got very, _very_ hard to keep you away. At first, I just tried to say I loved how much you and Tony got along, how much you two adored each other. But…it started to get difficult being 'round you, because…because I couldn’t keep you away from me…it wasn’t easy anymore. Ya kept gettin’ closer and it…it didn’t just scare me…it terrified me. And I tried to fight it…fought it as hard as I could but then that night……do y’know why I left after our dance?” she asked, finally looking up at him. The look he was giving her caused her head to swim and her heart to practically beat out of her chest. 

John shook his head in response to her question. 

This time, Rose held his gaze, unwilling to lose the feelings his eyes were eliciting within her. Tears began to fall again as she spoke, “Was 'cause I realized that you broke through. That there wasn’t anythin' there to protect me anymore. You were so close and I didn’t know how to handle that…didn’t want to handle that. I couldn’t risk gettin' hurt again.”

John’s eyes saddened at that last remark. “I would _never_ hurt you, Rose,” he said with absolute resolve.

Rose nodded. “I know that…in all honesty, I knew that then…but, that didn’t stop me. No matter how badly I might have wanted it to. Even when I found out about your book…I was furious but I knew deep down you wouldn’t hurt me. But I tried to use that anger to finally push you away for good.”

John let out a breath and ran his free hand through his hair. “The book... Rose, I promise it’s not-..." 

“It’s okay," she cut him off, "Y’don’t have to explain…I read it.”

John’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “You re-…how did you read it?”

“Went to Jack. Told ‘im he it was the least he could do. Didn’t really give ‘im choice.”

John smiled and gave a faint snort at finding out about Jack’s involvement. It didn’t surprise him. Uncertainty creep into his chest as he went to ask his next question. 

“So…what did you think?”

Rose took a moment before answering. Her voice was low and full of emotion as she said, “It’s beautiful…but…”

“But what?” he asked, anxious to know where she found fault.

“I-I don’t think I deserve half the things ya said 'bout me. I’m not worth that much.”

John’s eyes hardened at that. “Don’t you ever say that! Not ever again, understand? You have more worth than I could ever put into words. You mean so much to so many. You’re everything to your family. You’re everything to _me_ ,” he said, his eyes dark with emotion.

Up until that moment, Rose thought she had already seen the depth of his love; but as his eyes remained fixated on her, she realized that everything else paled in comparison to what she was now seeing. Rose released his hand. John went to grab it again, but she shook her head.   
  
Instead, she slowly reached for his face, cupping it in her hands. In his eyes, she could see the expectation, the hope, the longing. Tentatively, she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his. Rose could feel the slight surprise her actions had caused him, but that didn’t hold him back for long. Immediately, John reached his hand up and cradled her head, pulling her closer. At the sense of utter completion, of finally coming home, she felt her heart begin to heal and tears streamed freely from her eyes. 

As her courage grew, so did the intensity of the kiss. The awkward angle caused John to slip off the seat and kneel into the gravel, which quickly corrected the situation. Rose gripped his shoulders tightly, desperate and eager to close the distance between them. His passion matched hers as he was finally able to call her his own.   
  
Time stood still for them as the kissed deepened, conveying everything they were to each other—everything they wanted. When they finally broke away, their foreheads met, neither willing to relinquish the touch of the other. 

“So, can I take it you kinda like me?” he asked, smiling and clearly out of breath. 

Rose kept her forehead to his as she shook her head. John pulled back at that and looked her in the eyes, waiting for an explanation. 

“No…I-...I _love_ you,” she said, tears rapidly streaming down her cheeks as she finally said the words she’d been longing to for so long. 

John’s face lit up as he broke into a slow but brilliant smile. Gently he kissed her again, resting his forehead on hers. 

“That’s _very_ good news. ‘Cause it just so happens that I love you, too.”

“Yeah? For how long?” she whispered. 

John leaned back just enough to allow him to look her in the eyes, cupping her cheek and gently stroking it. 

“Always.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	27. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank every single one of you who read, favorited, and reviewed. You guys are beyond amazing and have kept me goin'!  
> Again...all my love and thank yas! ∞
> 
> Can't give you a song for this chapter...you'll just have to guess *giggle*

_Six Months Later_

 

Martha was prodigiously proud of herself. She had been nauseous ever since opening the shop that morning, but she had managed to throw up only once. Rose, Mickey, and Martha had gone ten rounds arguing about whether or not Martha should continue to open the shop. Martha had insisted that they were both being completely ridiculous, and that she was perfectly capable of keeping her normal routine, despite being four months gone. Rose tried going all “Jackie Tyler” on her, and Mickey had used every guilt card he had, but nothing had worked. In the end though, they had begrudgingly reached a compromise—Martha could continue to open, but she would only work a half-day.   
  
Though she would never admit to it, Martha was starting to be grateful to have her hours cut back. The further along she got in her pregnancy, the easier it became for her to tire out. The fact that she was now limited to decaf was not helping anything either. 

When Rose arrived around 10:30 AM, she made to bring with her ginger ale, saltines, and a box of Kleenex. Martha appreciated the first two and glared at Rose over the third. So what if she had randomly cried once or twice…or seven times yesterday.  
  
Rose gave a genuine smile, kissed her forehead, and on seeing the display case was low on pastries, went to the kitchen to begin baking.   
  
Business remained slow but steady, allowing Martha to have some necessary periods of rest. During one such time, she was sitting down behind the counter nibbling on a saltine, when John walked in with two white takeaway bags. Her overly sensitive sense of smell could immediately tell that he had brought chips. As the smell wafted over her, she could practically feel the grease coat her stomach. Feeling bike rush to her throat, she immediately dropped the saltine and put her hand to her mouth.

_I will not get sick. I will not get sick. I will n-…not get sick!_

John saw her attempt to control her stomach and quickly went up to her, putting the two bags on the counter in front of her before walking up to her, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder.

“You alright? You need something? Bucket? Cold rag? A, um...,” he began asking rapidly.

“Get those things away from me!” Martha begged, pointing to the offending bags of food and putting her hand back over mouth.

Seeing where she was pointing, John looked at down at them briefly before quickly grabbing the bags and tossing them on a nearby table.

“Better?”

“Barely,” Martha groaned as she put her head in her hand. Slowly, her stomach settled, but the faint lingering smell of chips still gave her a quiver of nausea. She looked up at John and immediately could see something was slightly… _off_. 

Martha raised an eyebrow and said, “What’s wrong?”

At her question, John returned her expression. “Nothing. Why?”

“Because you’re all…,” she trailed off as she wiggled and waved her hand at him, “all…weird vibey.” 

“Vibey?” he sniggered.

“Shut up! I’m still tryin' not to toss my stomach. But seriously, somethin's goin’ on…I can just tell,” she insisted as her gaze zeroed in on him, analyzing his behavior.

The intense stare made John fidget uncomfortably. “It’s probably just those pesky pregnancy hormones,” he deflected casually, flashing her a toothy grin.

“No…pregnancy hormones are the reason I have the overwhelmin' desire to slap that grin off your face. Despite that, I can still tell there’s definitely somethin’ up.”

No longer able to tolerate the borderline interrogation, John grabbed the takeaway bags again, partly hoping that the smell would keep her at bay. “Rose in the back?”

“Yeah…go. Take those things and go,” Martha demanded as she quickly put her hand back to her mouth again, the scent again assaulting her stomach. 

John quickly made his escape to the kitchen. When he walked in, he saw Rose at the middle prep table, whisking some sort of chocolate batter. At hearing his entrance, she looked up and smiled widely. He smiled in return and walked over to her, giving her a sound kiss while she struggled to not drop the mixing bowl. When they finally parted, Rose looked up at him, her eyes sparkling though slightly hooded.

“What was _that_ for?” she asked, slightly breathless.

“'Cause it’s Wednesday,” he said giving her a brilliant grin.

Rose giggled and gave him that tongue in teeth smile he adored, causing John widen his smile and give her yet another thorough snog. Ever since she found out the effect her smile had on him and the perks it brought, Rose had made sure to use it _very_ regularly. 

“Brought you something,” he said, holding up the two bags. 

Rose let out an excited squeal and quickly put down the bowl, grabbing one of the bags from him. She hopped up on the prep table and John joined her. 

“What are you making?” he asked, swiping a smidgen of batter onto his finger and promptly tasting.

“Oi!” Rose scolded, smacking at his hand. “Keep outta that! It’s Death by Chocolate brownie batter. Donna asked for 'em the other day. So stop stickin' your fingers in there, or I'll rat you out!"

“Tattletale,” he said, taking another small swipe of batter as Rose glared at him. “What happened to those Chunky Monkey muffins you were supposed to make me?” he asked, slightly disappointed. 

Rose took a quick bite of her chip before answering. “I’ve been banned from baking with bananas. The smell of ‘em makes Martha start retchin’.”

Instantly, John’s jaw dropped in shock at the very idea. “She’s gonna be the death of me,” he huffed dramatically and began pouting.

Laughing at his childish reaction, Rose pecked his cheek and patted his hand patronizingly. “Oh, my poor baby.”  
  
While John continued to pout, Rose started searching through her bag. “I see the vinegar, but where’s the ketchup?”

John fiddled with his coat pocket nervously and pulled out a bottle of ketchup. Her eyebrows rose up questioningly. 

“Since when do y’keep ketchup in your coat?”

“I don't. I just…I realized I forgot to get some and stopped to pick some up,” John answered nervously. 

With her brow still raised, she moved to take the bottle from him before stopping midway. “S’not gonna blow up on me, is it?” she said grinning, yet slightly serious.

John let out a dramatic sigh. “Rose, that was _ages_ ago! Quit beating a dead horse.”

She rolled her eyes, but grinned as she took the bottle from him. As she did so, she heard what sounded like a clunk from within the bottle. She shook it. Definitely a clunking sound. Her eyes widened. 

_Ketchup’s not s’posed to do that…_

oOo 

Martha slowly made her way back from the bathroom. The count was now up to two and a half—the half due to the fact she was able to push it back down. 

_Whoever the bloody idiot was that decided to call it "morning sickness" should be shot!_

As she made it to the counter, Donna came running, literally running, into the shop and up to Martha. 

Martha’s eyes widened at the sight. “Why on earth are you runnin’ in here?”

Stopping a moment to catch her breath, Donna began, “You didn’t answer your mobile. I have news. It’s big! It’s beyond big! It’s amazing, brilliant, monumental, ast-..."

“You’re starting to sound like John, an' I'm not in the mood to deal with that. Get to the point,” Martha cut her off.

“He bought a ring!”

“What?!” Martha squealed, all traces of nausea instantly gone. “How do you know that?!”

“Jack told me. John swore him to secrecy,” Donna said, her face completely taken over with a smile. 

“If it’s s’posed to be a secret, how did you find out?”

“I have my ways…,” Donna trailed off with a sly smirk, wiping at her bottom lip as she recalled her tactic to get said information.

“So, when’s h-..."

The question died on Martha’s lips as a horrible crashing sound came from the kitchen. Filled with sudden concern, Martha and Donna ran towards the sound and threw open the door. What they saw took them completely by surprise. The prep table was at an awkward angle and chocolate batter was splattered all over the floor. John and Rose were sprawled on the floor, also somewhat in the batter. Rose had ahold of his lapels and was snogging John for all he was worth while he attempted to soothe the bump to his head and still give it as good as he got.

The shock faded and Martha and Donna both started laughing hysterically. Martha looked at Donna, unable to hide her excitement.

“Pretty sure that’s a yes.”

 

 


End file.
